


The Mess We've Made

by ViciousVenin



Series: The Mess We've Made [1]
Category: Bandom, Midtown, My Chemical Romance, Pencey Prep
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Basement Gerard Way, Blow Jobs, Bottom Frank Iero, Bullets Era, Casual Sex, Depression, Disordered Eating, Drinking, Drug Use, Eventual Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hook-Up, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Light Bondage, M/M, Phone Sex, Pining, Public Sex, Rimming, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Strangers to Lovers, Top Gerard Way, Touring, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 112,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12042945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousVenin/pseuds/ViciousVenin
Summary: Gerard isn't sure where his life is going. It feels like the world is shifting and changing around him and he's stuck in place, unable to move forward. But when he meets a guy at a club who tells him he's meant for something better, Gerard wants to believe him, and suddenly he's taking steps he never thought he would.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am incredibly excited to share this story with you all. I am also incredibly terrified. This semester is going to be very challenging for me, and I really hope that I don't have to take a break from the story or update less frequently than I'd like, but if it comes to that, I hope that you'll bear with me. For now, expect updates once a week on Saturdays or Sundays.  
> Also, I'm really, really bad at writing in present tense and find myself slipping into past tense whenever I try it. So, I decided to challenge myself and write this in present tense. Please bear with me on that as well.
> 
> Warnings: depression, anxiety, addiction, alcoholism, disordered eating. I'll add any additional triggers to the tags and individual chapters.
> 
> [Edit February 2018] If you're starting this fic and you don't want spoilers... don't read the comments. People have been REALLY good at predicting stuff lmao.

The crowd presses in on Gerard as he makes his way to the front, trying to get as close to the music as possible. He doesn’t know who’s playing, and he doesn’t much care. It’s not the band that matters, it’s the shaking floor boards and the bursting eardrums that their sound causes.

He hasn’t been to a show like this in a while. A few years ago, he could be found in a grungy underground club like this one on any given weekend, but recently Gerard hasn’t had the time to make it out. He hasn’t been in the mood for it either, if he’s being honest. But he’d decided that, for this night, he’d put his thoughts about his increasingly-stressful job away and revel in the collective anger of a rowdy punk crowd.

The pounding bass makes his stomach churn and he realizes that there isn’t much in it besides alcohol and the few scraps of food he’d eaten between the sketches he’d done that day. It feels good. It feels like _something_ , something real, something alive. Something Gerard doesn’t feel too much of these days.

The band kicks into the next song and Gerard loses himself in the sound of it. The singer screams out incomprehensible words, but plenty of those in the crowd scream them right back. The jerking movements of the sea of people somehow become more intense, and Gerard moves with it, throwing his head back and moving his body to the beat against all the other bodies doing the same. At some point, he becomes pressed against a man somewhat shorter than himself, and he tries to find space to let the man through as it seems he’s trying to get past Gerard with intent. He stops, though, when the man pushes forward into Gerard and he realizes that the place the guy is heading is as close to Gerard as he can get.

Gerard drags his eyes over as much of the stranger as he can see. Fauxhawk with a shitty dye job, lip and nose piercings, eyeliner, beautiful mouth, pretty eyes, taught body under black, ripped clothes. Hot. With this realization in mind, Gerard decides not to push the stranger away, but instead give back as good as he gets. The two of them move together to the music for a few songs, getting to know each other’s bodies and how they express themselves.

Eventually, the stranger reaches up on his toes to press his mouth to Gerard’s ear as the band on stage moves into a heavy song. “I’m Frank,” he says. His voice is dark, yet also playful, and suddenly the music seems very far away. 

“I’m Gerard,” he tells Frank, and he smiles against the side of the stranger’s face. It can’t be comfortable for him to move like this while on tip toe, but he does it anyway.

“You always look this good, Gerard?” Frank’s breath is hot against Gerard’s ear.

Gerard lets out a short laugh. “Always,” he says. Gerard is never forward. He’ll flirt, sure, but he doesn’t come on to people. He’s always too nervous. But, for some reason, he feels his nerves slipping away as he leans back in and says, “You’re cute. Wanna grab a smoke outside?”

He feels Frank nod and then pull away, wrapping a hand around Gerard’s wrist as he does. The two snake their way through the crowd before finally finding a side exit and stepping out into the cool night air. Summer still has almost a month to go, but the chill of autumn had already started its slow creep into the New Jersey weather.

The two of them find an empty space along the brick wall of the building and lean with their backs against it. Frank digs out a battered, nearly-empty box of cigarettes from his pocket while Gerard offers him a lighter, and Frank lights a cigarette for each of them. They stand there like that for a while, smoking languidly and letting their bodies come down from the adrenaline rush of the pit, not saying anything.

Finally, Frank says, “I’ve been meaning to get out to a show for ages. Haven’t been in so fuckin’ long,” as he flicks his cigarette and an ember flies to the ground.

Gerard watches the cherry burn out on the concrete. “Yeah, same. I miss it.”

They’re silent until their cigarettes whittle down to stubs and they’re left with nothing to occupy their hands. But it’s not awkward, Gerard can tell. It’s a friendly kind of silence. The kind you can only share with someone who you really connect with even if you don’t know it yet.

Gerard looks at the man next to him, who’s staring straight ahead, and takes him in now that he stands in the soft glow of the streetlamp not too far away. He looks younger than he did back in the club, smaller somehow. Gerard feels a pang of sadness and can’t help thinking Frank looks just as lonely as he feels. He doesn’t really get how a guy this attractive can be lonely, Gerard would think Frank would have men and women fighting for the chance to be with him. _Gerard_ would fight for the chance to be with him and his piercings and his hair and his lips. He gets distracted by Frank’s mouth and is still staring at it when Frank turns to him.

“You look like the kind of guy who’s meant for something better,” Frank says.

Gerard meets his eye and shrugs. He’d like to think so too. He’d like to think his time spent slaving away for the big, soul-crushing companies will pan out, but he’s starting to worry it won’t, and with the way things are going he’d like to think he’s meant for something more than that. Then again, maybe not. Maybe this is as good as it’ll get.

Frank says, “You’ve got really pretty eyes,” sounding almost like he’s falling into them, not realizing what he’s saying out loud.

“You too,” Gerard says before Frank has the chance to feel embarrassed. “And your mouth… fuck.”

Frank licks his lips and smiles. “Thanks. And I know how to put it to good use,” he says before suddenly pushing forward and pressing his mouth to Gerard’s.

Gerard is shocked at first, but quickly gives into the kiss, pushing back and placing his hands on Frank’s sides. Frank reaches up and winds his arms around Gerard’s neck as he encourages the kiss to go deeper. Gerard opens his mouth to Frank and then their tongues are sliding together and it tastes like smoke and vodka and Gerard fucking loves it so much he would give anything to keep Frank’s mouth on his.

Frank growls low in his throat and slides his hands down to rest flat against Gerard’s chest. He pushes, and Gerard’s back is now pressed firmly against the bricks. Gerard’s head snaps back and he takes in a quick gasp of air, his eyes flickering open for a second to see Frank staring at him with blown pupils and that perfect mouth hanging open, now slightly red and glistening with saliva. Gerard smiles and tightens his grip on Frank’s sides, pulling him in.

Their mouths slide against each other again and Gerard can’t get over just how perfect the fit is. Their bodies press together and it seems like puzzle pieces aligning; they fit just right despite the height difference. Frank presses Gerard harder into the wall and pushes a knee in between Gerard’s thighs. Gerard gasps into Frank’s mouth as Frank’s leg slides against his hardening cock. Frank gives a low chuckle and moves his leg again, creating the perfect amount of friction.

Frank moves up onto his toes so he can once again talk into Gerard’s ear. “I think,” he says as he slowly moves his leg between Gerard’s, “that you should come back to my place.”

Gerard nods furiously, not trusting himself to speak with the way Frank’s movements are making him lose it.

Frank makes another aroused growl and slides against Gerard a few more times before wrenching himself away and reattaching his hand to Gerard’s wrist. “Come on.”

The two of them walk – or rather, Frank walks as he half-drags Gerard – to the club parking lot where he locates his small Toyota Corolla and the two get in. Black Flag blasts from the speakers the moment Frank turns the ignition and the two of them are soon speeding off into the night.

Frank lightly drums on the steering wheel as he drives, humming along to a song Gerard recognizes but can’t name. Gerard slumps in the passenger seat and tries to control his breathing. Frank doesn’t look at him during the entire drive, but Gerard can’t stop himself from flicking his eyes over to the man in the driver’s seat every few seconds. The way Frank grips the steering wheel with one hand on top and leans back in his seat is so effortless and casual, and it turns Gerard on to no end.

After not too long a drive, they reach what Gerard assumes to be Frank’s apartment block as he pulls into a parking space out front. The two of them get out and slam the car doors behind them, still not saying a word. After they’ve climbed the stairs, Frank digs his keys out of his pocket and slides one into the lock of his front door, roughly jiggling until the door finally gives way.

The inside isn’t impressive, but Gerard wasn’t expecting much, and the apartment seems to fit its inhabitant. Frank leads them through a living room adorned with obscure horror movie posters and a kitchen with piles of dishes in the sink. Finally, they reach the bedroom, a small space with a futon against the back wall. Gerard worries things are about to get awkward, as they sometimes do at this point when the initial heat of the encounter has worn off, but he’s distracted by a familiar shape in the corner.

 “Do you play?” Gerard asks Frank as he gestures to the guitar.

 “Yeah. In my band. I sing too. Well, sort of. Do you?” He gives Gerard a slightly embarrassed look. “Play, I mean,” he adds quickly.

 “Not for a long time…” Gerard trails off. He finds himself being drawn to the guitar, an instrument he hasn’t picked up in years. He was never very good but he always had a fantasy about playing in a band and making music that would change the world. He knows it’s ridiculous, a pipe dream. But he’s never been able to completely let it go. “Your band, are you serious about it?”

 “I mean,” Frank cards a hand through his hair, seeming uncomfortable, “I guess? We’re gonna put out a record soon. Hopefully.”

 “Holy shit!” Gerard’s eyes light up as he finally tears them away from the guitar to look at Frank again. “That’s fucking awesome, dude!”

 “Ha, yeah. Thanks.”

They fall silent after that, Gerard’s attention now back on Frank. They stand there for a moment, not moving, just looking at each other. Suddenly, they both advance towards the center of the room and meet with their lips crashing together.

 “I know you probably get this a lot,” Gerard says between kisses, “but it’s _really_ fucking hot that you’re in a band.”

Frank laughs good-naturedly as he pushes his hands up under Gerard’s shirt. “Not as often as you’d think.”

Gerard pulls his shirt over his head and Frank splays his hands out on Gerard’s chest. He moves one hand lower, tucking his fingers behind Gerard’s belt while Gerard busies his own hands in Frank’s hair.

 “Fuck,” Frank gasps as Gerard tugs a little on his hair, their mouths sliding together through breaths and moans.

Gerard lowers his hands to Frank’s shoulders and begins to maneuver them back towards the bed. They fall clumsily onto the mattress, Gerard on top of Frank, teeth clashing painfully but neither of them caring. Frank’s hands are slowly working their way into the back of Gerard’s jeans and Gerard moves to attach his mouth to Frank’s throat.

 “Fuck!” Frank says again when Gerard finds a particularly sensitive spot near his collar bone.

Gerard tries to move his mouth lower but finds Frank’s shirt in the way. Frustrated, he slides his hands down Frank’s sides and pushes back so that he can lift Frank’s shirt up. Frank happily complies, and Gerard pulls the shirt up and over Frank’s shoulders, tossing it on the floor beside the bed.

He can feel Frank’s hard cock underneath his own, and as he moves back down to Frank’s throat he grinds into him with his hips. Frank lets out a particularly loud moan and Gerard flashes him a wicked grin before sucking on that spot again.

 “Jesus Christ, Gerard,” Frank says with labored breaths.

“Call me Gee.”

 “I– okay, Gee–” Frank is cut off by his own moan when Gerard moves lower, closing his mouth around one of Frank’s nipples. “ _Fuck_. Shit, Gee, fucking fuck.” Gerard hums in agreement and slides his teeth gently over Frank’s nipple. “Oh my _God_ I want you to fuck me.”

Gerard detaches himself from Frank’s chest and looks up at him with piercing eyes. “Sure thing, sugar,” he says.

They slowly make their way out of their pants and shoes until the two of them are both clad in only boxers. When Frank turns his back to Gerard for a moment, he notices the jack-o-lantern tattoo on Frank’s back.

“Nice pumpkin,” he says.

“What?” Frank looks at him, confused. “Oh, the tattoo. I thought you were talking about my ass for a second.” He laughs.

Gerard laughs with him. “No, but, I mean, your ass is nice too. A little on the small side…” he trails off in mock-criticism.

“Hey, you don’t love it, you don’t get in it,” Frank shoots back.

The two of them lay next to each other on their sides. Gerard finds that this seems oddly natural, comfortable. Something he’s never felt with a hookup before. They seem to be continuously distracted by each other’s jokes instead of just hurrying through with the sex. It feels good. It feels like something Gerard might want to experience again. With Frank.

He lifts his head to meet Frank’s eye and sees the other man is wearing a huge grin, obviously also comfortable in Gerard’s company. “Want me to blow you?” Gerard asks seriously, breaking the casual mood.

Frank’s eyes widen and his smile falters. “Uhh, yeah. That sounds good.” He laughs nervously.

Gerard looks at him inquisitively. “You bring home hookups often, Frank?”

“Yeah, sometimes. This just… feels different. Not sure why.”

Gerard smiles at him. “I was just thinking the same thing.” He pauses for a moment, gives Frank a reassuring look, and then slides on top of Frank, pushing him back against the bed, and begins to kiss down his body. “Fuck, you’re hot,” he says once he gets to Frank’s stomach. He lightly flicks his tongue into Frank’s navel, causing the other man to buck his hips up slightly.

“Shit,” Frank breathes out.

Gerard eyes the bulge in Frank’s boxers before pressing his mouth to it through the cotton, flicking his eyes up to meet Frank’s. He’s staring down at Gerard with his beautiful mouth hanging open obscenely, and Gerard can’t get enough of it. Slowly, Gerard slides Frank’s boxers down his hips and finally takes them all the way off. He wraps a hand around Frank’s cock and lightly licks over the head.

“Jesus Christ, Gee.” Frank’s eyes are incredibly wide and his breaths are coming hard and fast.

“Relax, Frank,” he says and takes Frank into his mouth.

Frank winds his fingers into Gerard’s hair and hangs on for dear life. “Shit – ahh. _Fuck_ that’s good.”

Gerard hums and begins to bob up and down, removing his hand after some time so he can take in more of Frank. He meets Frank’s eye before sinking down all the way and swallowing Frank completely. Gerard watches as Frank’s eyes roll back and he lets out a deep moan. He pulls off all the way and then slides down again, sees Frank get ahold of himself for a moment and then completely lose it all over again.

“Gee– I, fuck, I’m not gonna last here. You’re – oh, _shit_ – you’re too fuckin’ good.”

Gerard reluctantly pulls off. “Still want me to fuck you?”

Frank stares down at him. “Yeah. I– _fuck_ yeah I do.”

“All right then.” Gerard gets up and strips off his boxers while Frank reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom and a bottle of lube. Gerard snatches the bottle away and settles in between Frank’s hips as he dribbles some lube onto his fingers. “Christ, you’re hot,” he says and begins to tease Frank’s asshole with his middle finger.

“Fuck, Gerard, I–” Frank moans when Gerard slides his finger in. “Holy shit that’s good.”

Gerard begins to move his finger slowly in and out, noticing just how tight Frank is. “Has it been a while for you?” he asks kindly, not trying to embarrass Frank.

“Fuck, yeah it’s been a while. Way too fucking long.” Frank turns a burning gaze on Gerard then. “But I want it hard.” He says it like he means it more than anything.

Gerard swallows and nods. He presses the tip of his index finger in beside the other, and Frank’s eyes slip closed. The room fills with scattered breaths and moans as Gerard works in the second finger and then a third. After some time, he begins to move faster, harder, and Frank arches off the bed when Gerard hits his prostate.

“Fucking Jesus fucking Christ _fuck!_ ” Frank yells. “I– oh, holy fucking shit, that’s so good.”

Gerard continues to pump his fingers in and out until Frank tells him, “Please, I fucking– I need – _ahh_ – I fucking _need_ –”

“Okay,” Gerard says simply and Frank gasps as he pulls his fingers out. He quickly slides on the condom and slathers his cock in lube before lining it up with Frank’s entrance. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” Frank moans as Gerard slowly pushes into him, and Gerard revels in the tight, hot feeling of Frank around him.

“I’m so fucking glad I went home with you,” he says as he bottoms out.

Frank chuckles breathlessly. “Baby, you were mine from the second I saw you across the room.” The two of them moan together as Gerard pulls out nearly all the way and starts pushing in again. “God, you’re so fucking _big_ ,” Frank manages when Gerard is nearly, but not completely, buried all the way inside him. Frank reaches between them and strokes his cock slowly, like it’s too good and he has to take the edge off.

“It’s a blessing and a curse,” Gerard tells him, biting back a moan and sliding the rest of the way in.

“Fucking _bless me_ , motherfucker. Jesus Christ.”

Gerard slides in and out slowly a few more times before he begins to pick up the pace. Frank reaches behind him and grabs the headboard, knuckles turning white and mouth dropping open. Gerard tries out a few different angles until Frank’s eyes snap open and meet Gerard’s, dark with lust. He slams in again on the same spot and Frank’s head tilts back, an ear-splitting moan falling from his lips. Gerard pulls back and pushes in again and again, trying his best to get the same angle as Frank shifts and jolts restlessly beneath him. He bats Frank’s hand away and wraps it around Frank’s cock where it’s wet and leaking, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Frank is pushing back to meet him now, and the harmony of their bodies is almost more than he can bear.

Gerard feels ridiculously close to the edge but he refuses to fall over it until he sees Frank’s entire body seize up and come spills out over their stomachs, and all over his fist as he pumps Frank through it. He lets himself go then, allowing his orgasm to rock through him as his eyes slide closed and the world falls from view.

He collapses onto Frank’s chest when he’s done. The two of them breathe hard together for a few minutes, neither of them saying anything. Eventually, Gerard pulls out and takes the condom off, throwing it into a waste bin near the bed. He crashes back down onto the bed beside Frank, laying shoulder to shoulder with the other man.

“That was…” Frank trails off.

“Yeah.” Gerard nods in agreement against the pillows.

“I haven’t come like that in–”

“Ages,” Gerard finishes for him.

Frank rolls onto his side to face Gerard and Gerard turns his head to look at him. “Can I see you again?” Frank asks.

“Of course, sugar,” he says with a grin.

The two of them exchange numbers after they’ve both pulled their clothes back on and Gerard is standing outside on Frank’s doorstep. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, not sure how to say goodbye after such an unexpectedly intimate night. Before he can make up his mind, Frank grabs the lapels of his jacket and pulls him in, pressing their lips together in a kiss that lasts nowhere near long enough. Gerard pulls back, breathless, and smiles at Frank who slowly lets go and smiles back. He closes the door behind him and only then does Gerard remember that Frank drove them here.

“Fuck,” he says and considers knocking, but the night’s end had been too perfect, and he’s hoping that Frank is currently leaning against the other side of the door, trying to tame his butterflies. Gerard can’t ruin that. Instead, he begins the walk back to the club, feeling his own butterflies take flight.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Gerard says to himself. He’s gone through every article of clothing he wore that night, checked and rechecked and re-rechecked the pocket he swore he shoved the piece of paper into, and he still can’t find it. He should have put the number in his phone immediately, but he didn’t, like an idiot, and now his only hope for reconnecting with Frank is for Frank to call him. He hopes to God Frank will call him. But it’s been almost a week with only texts from his brother and parents, and Gerard’s starting to lose hope. _Maybe it’s better it stays as a one-time thing_ , he thinks, and then, _who am I fucking kidding?_ and starts digging through the pile of dirty clothes again.

“Hey, Gee!” Mikey says as he bursts through the basement door. “Guess what I fucking–”

“Jesus fucking shit fuck, Mikey! Are you trying to kill me?” Gerard clutches his chest and tries to regain his composure.

“Sorry,” Mikey says, not really sounding sorry at all. “Guess what I did, Gee? I fucking tried out for a _band!_ ”

“Holy shit, Mikes. That’s fucking awesome! Guitar?” He knows Mikey’s been wanting to be in a band for forever, like since they were kids, but the few they’ve formed together never quite sated Mikey’s thirst for music.

“Yeah! It _was_ fucking awesome. I didn’t make it, but all the guys were super cool and I think I made some good connections.” Mikey’s smile doesn’t falter one bit when he announces he didn’t made the cut.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dude,” Gerard says anyway. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

 “No, they made the right call. This band is seriously good. I have their demo, I’ll play you some of their stuff.” Before Gerard can say anything, Mikey is bolting up the stairs presumably to find the aforementioned demo.

Gerard shakes his head and looks down at the pile of clothes at his feet. He frowns. He can’t think of a single way he could get back in contact with Frank except for returning to that same club every chance he gets. But he hardly has any time with work and being fucking exhausted at all hours and Frank said he barely gets out to shows anyway. The chances of meeting him there again are slim to none. Gerard wishes he could remember where Frank lives. He probably _should_ remember after having walked from there all the way back to the club and then driving his own car home, but he doesn’t, and he thinks that showing up on Frank’s doorstep unannounced maybe isn’t a great idea in the first place. He’ll probably never see Frank again, and it makes Gerard’s heart ache a lot more than it should.

“Here!” Mikey says as he returns to the basement with a cassette tape in his hand. He slides the tape into the player on Gerard’s dresser and a gritty, raw voice screams “While you were fucking off!” The guitars and drums kick in and Gerard instantly decides that he likes their sound.

“They’re fucking good,” he says, nodding his head to the beat.

“Dude, I know! They’re called Pencey Prep. They don’t have any shows scheduled right now but we should go see them when they do.”

Gerard’s still wrapped up in the music, trying to hang on to the lyrics and get a feel for the song as a whole at the same time. “Yeah, totally,” he says absentmindedly, but he means it. He’d leave his basement for this without a second thought.

They listen to the four songs on the demo in near silence, only breaking it to make the occasional positive comment or grunt of appreciation. It’s good. It’s really fucking good, if he’s being honest. It makes Gerard want to go out and, like, _do_ something. Anything. Quit his job, fuck around, change the world.

The last song ends and the room falls into silence. Gerard and Mikey have migrated to relaxing on Gerard’s bed, and Mikey now gets up to take the tape out of the player.

“Let me know when they have a show, yeah?” Gerard says.

“Of course, dude,” Mikey says as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

~

Gerard hates his job. He _hates_ his fucking job. He hates it even more because he should love it. After slaving away at Hot Topic and Barnes and Noble, going years without tapping into any of the potential his Bachelor’s degree had given him, he’d _finally_ found a job in his field. He’s finally made it into the art industry, he finally gets to do cartooning for a living, he finally has what he always wanted. And now that he’s here, he fucking hates it.

The words “You look like the kind of guy who’s meant for something better” have replayed in his head countless times since that night with Frank, more than two weeks ago. He can’t get the guy out of his head, and he can’t stop wondering if Frank was right. What if he _is_ meant for something better? What does ‘something better’ even _mean_?

Gerard thinks about all this during the train ride into the City on a dreary Tuesday morning. He thinks about it intently with music blasting in his ears and his eyes trained on the ads plastered to the wall across from him. He thinks about it as the train comes to a stop before it even reaches the Hudson. He thinks about it as the masses of people rush out of the station, as they gather at the edge of the water, as the screams and gasps fill the air. He thinks about it as he watches the Towers fall. He thinks about it as the sight makes his gut clench and he realizes those around him probably know people in those buildings. He thinks about it as it becomes clear that the world deserves more. They’re all meant for something better.

~

“Mom, mom, I’m fine. I’m totally fine. Didn’t even make it across the river.” He’s on a free shuttle back to Newark. He’s not fine, but he’s alive, and his mom deserves to think that those two things are the same right now. “Are you okay?”

Donna quietly sobs into the phone, telling him she’s okay and to stay safe and get home as soon as he can. He assures her he will, that’s where he’s heading. That’s the only place he wants to be right now. He hangs up and exhales slowly through his mouth. His eyes slip closed. His head falls back against the wall behind him.

There are people all around him having similar conversations, letting their family members know that they’re okay and that they’re on their way home or wherever it is they’re going. And then there are the people making life changing decisions; proposing to partners, professing love, expressing a need to have children or refusing to bring another soul into this world. Gerard listens with his eyes closed, listens to the world shifting and changing around him. For the first time in his life, he feels like he could change with it.

~

He fumbles with his keys at the front door, drops them, bends over to pick them up, stands up again. The door opens and Gerard’s mother quickly pulls him into a hug, her face streaked with tears.

“Oh, honey. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

He hugs her back fiercely. “You too, Ma.”

Mikey embraces him as soon as his mom lets go. The two of them say nothing, but everything they need to know is conveyed in the look they give each other when they part. _I love you, Mikes_.

After ensuring that both of them are okay and that his dad is on the way home and his grandma is sleeping upstairs, Gerard heads for the basement. He closes the door behind him and turns on the light, his eyes scanning over the dim room. They land on the far corner, where an ancient acoustic rests. He crosses the room and picks it up, feeling somewhat like Arthur drawing the sword from the stone. Deep breath. He sits on the edge of his bed, places his fingers on the frets where they haven’t been in years. He finds the placement of a familiar chord, strums. Even through the pain, the aching, the loss, the grief, he feels something come to life inside him. He smiles.

~

“What’s this?” Gerard’s boss eyes the document he has just laid down on the desk between them.

“My notice. Effective immediately. I quit.” His voice doesn’t waiver, which he’s proud of, but it’s probably only because he’s practiced this about four hundred times.

“All right. Good luck, Gerald.” His boss turns back to the computer screen, not giving Gerard or his letter of resignation another glance.

Gerard turns and yanks the office door open, ready to walk through it, but he pauses. “My name is Gerard, and if you ever want your employees to respect you, you should learn their damn names. Have a nice day.”

September 12th, 2001. Gerard Way is free to fucking live his life.

~

“Hey, Mikey, could you play this?” Gerard hands his brother a rumpled sheet of lined paper with a few chords scribbled on it. “I just need to hear it played by someone else. And then maybe I can sing on top of it.”

Mikey gives him a look, but doesn’t protest. Gerard hasn’t told him about quitting his job yet, though Mikey must be suspicious that he’s puttering around in the basement in the middle of the day on a weekday. Then again, Mikey should probably be at work now too.

He stares down at the paper intently and nods, taking the guitar Gerard is holding out for him, and the two of them sit down on Gerard’s bed. Mikey strums a few random chords and then plays the first of the set Gerard has written down for him. Gerard directs him to the rhythm he’s been hearing in his head and Mikey plays through the chords a few times. The two of them decide on some on some changes, shifting the order of the chords and speeding it up, and Gerard can’t believe how incredible it feels to have the music develop right in front of him. It’s so tangible, like a living creature breathing in his hands. He can’t get enough of it.

After a few more times through, Gerard digs another piece of paper out of his pocket. He lets the last few chords play out as he clears his throat and takes a deep breath.

When Mikey starts the cycle again, Gerard begins to sing. “You’re not in this alone…” It’s rough, he’s just starting to figure it out, but it feels like _something_. Something real. And if the way Mikey is looking at him is any indication, he might not be alone in thinking that.

He finishes singing the first verse and Mikey stops playing. “I just have that and a second verse figured out so far, no chorus yet, but I think it’s going somewhere,” Gerard says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Somewhere? Gee, you could go _anywhere_ with this. It’s fucking incredible.” Mikey’s eyes shine like he really means it, and it makes Gerard’s heart swell.

“Thanks, Mikes.” He laughs. “It’s kinda like old times, huh? Raygun Jones and all that.”

“Fuck yeah it is. Shit, what am I doing looking to join other bands?” Mikey’s laughing but Gerard has fallen completely silent. When Mikey notices, he stops laughing and looks at Gerard. “What?”

“You mean it?”

“Doing a band?”

Gerard nods.

Mikey breaks out in a smile. “Of course I fucking mean it.” He knocks Gerard on the shoulder. “The two of us were _meant_ to be in bands together. And if you’re gonna sing instead of play guitar then I think we could really go places.” He gives Gerard a look that lets him know he’s joking, sort of, and Gerard grins back.

“Thank fucking God because I don’t think I could do this without you,” Gerard says honestly. Not only does he need Mikey’s guitar skills and creative energy, he needs his connections. Mikey knows practically everyone in the punk scene from here to Harlem, and those sorts of roots in the community Gerard’s looking to join are priceless.

Mikey smiles back at him silently for a minute, and then his eyes go wide with excitement. “Dude, there’s gonna be this really fucking cool show tomorrow night! Tons of awesome bands. I meant to tell you a while ago but, well…” They’re both reminded of the reason their lives have temporarily fractured and everything seems not quite right. In Gerard’s mind’s eye, the Towers are falling again and his heart breaks once more. “We should totally go,” Mikey tries to get the conversation back on track.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“I can introduce you to everyone I know. We can scout for possible bandmates!”

“Well, I mean, I was thinking maybe we’d ask Toro…”

Mikey’s mouth drops open. “You’re so fucking right, Gee. Shit, how could I forget about Ray? Haven’t talked to him in forever…”

“But we’d still need a drummer. And a bassist.”

“Yeah… I’ll think about it. Hey, listen, I gotta go, but I’ll see you later, yeah?” Mikey gets up to leave.

“Yeah.” Gerard says, trying not to be disappointed to have only himself for company once again. Mikey shuts the door behind him and, now that he’s alone, Gerard is free to obsess about the fact that a few days ago he flushed his entire career down the drain and that this whole band thing has such a tiny, miniscule, microscopic chance of actually working out that it’ll probably crash and burn right before his eyes. He’s fucking terrified. He doesn’t think he could live through that kind of failure.

But even if there’s the smallest inkling that it _could_ happen, that he could make music that matters and people would listen, he has to do it. He _has_ to. There’s nothing else he can do at this point, nothing else that won’t make him want to beat his head in from the sheer monotony of it, nothing else that could possibly be worthwhile.

Gerard lets out a long breath and falls back against the bed. _Relax,_ he thinks to himself as he stares at the ceiling, _if it doesn’t work out, you can always go back to Hot Topic_. He smiles a little to himself. He’d rather die than go back there, or anywhere but forward, really. _If it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know you tried._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of this is based on fact. Mikey really did try out for Pencey Prep on guitar and didn't make it, that's how he and Frank met and later lead Frank to be connected with MCR. Gerard really did work at Hot Topic and Barnes and Noble. He really did see the Towers fall and he really did get a free shuttle back and listen to people make life changing decisions. He really did quit his job and form a band within a week after 9/11. But the main thing that's different is that this is NOT how MCR formed. Mikey wasn't even involved until a few months in or so, as I understand it. Anyway, I'm drawing attention to this to make it clear that, while a lot of this story is inspired by the true history of MCR, it's not an accurate retelling in the slightest. 
> 
> Side note: would you guys appreciate it if I continued to include information like this? Like, about where my story follows what actually happened and where it deviates from it? Let me know, thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is NOT AN ACCURATE RETELLING OF MCR HISTORY. I'm just havin fun okay.
> 
> Btw, the characters will use "Matt" and "Otter" interchangeably, but for everything outside of dialogue/inner monologue I'll just refer to him as "Matt."

It feels like it’s been forever since he and Mikey have been to a show together, and it probably has been quite a few years by now. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, because they like the same music and have always run in similar circles, but since Gerard started to get more serious about art in college and couldn’t make it to shows very often, he and Mikey had drifted apart. Now, even when Gerard has the opportunity to go to a show with Mikey, he finds he’d rather go alone. Sometimes it’s easier to fit in when no one knows you.

But, right now, it’s just like old times. They’re making their way through the crowd, and Mikey keeps bumping into friends and acquaintances that he introduces to Gerard. He stopped trying to remember names about ten minutes ago. They finally make their way close enough to the stage to be satisfied and wait for the first band to come on.

Gerard looks down at the glass of rum and coke he’s holding and swirls it around a little. Most of the ice has melted, creating a depressingly watery excuse for a drink. He drains the rest of it in one go and sets the glass on a speaker nearby, hoping it doesn’t fall over and smash on the floor when the band starts playing later.

He turns around to say something to Mikey but finds only empty space. He scans the crowd until his eyes catch on Mikey’s ridiculous flat-ironed hair and sees him talking to someone Gerard can’t quite see. He pushes through the crowd until he reaches them, preparing himself to be introduced to yet another person whose name will leave his brain as soon as he hears it, but finds that that’s not the case at all.

Gerard breaks out in a grin. “Ray!”

Ray’s already smiling but he smiles back harder when he sees Gerard. “Gee! Dude, it’s so good to see you!” The two of them share a heartfelt hug and when they part Ray is grinning even wider, if that’s possible.

“What have you been up to, man?” Gerard asks and slaps Ray on the shoulder.

“Oh, this and that. Playing when I get the chance, working at a small record company which is cool.”

“Nice! That’s fucking awesome for you, dude.” Gerard knows Ray’s been trying to break into the business side of music for a long time, after the last of their bands fell apart.

“Yeah… What kind of havoc have you two been wreaking? I know there’s gotta be something,” Ray asks with a mischievous glint in his eye.

The brothers share a look. “Well…” Gerard starts.

“We’ve been thinking about starting a band,” Mikey finishes.

Ray’s smile falls and his eyes go wide. “Are you serious?” he says, his voice so low it’s almost inaudible over the din of the club.

They say nothing, but Gerard nods.

Ray opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finds the words to speak. “Uhh… are you gonna ask me to join?”

Gerard breaks into a huge grin and sees that Mikey has done the same. “We weren’t sure if you’d want–”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Of _course_ I want to! What have you guys got so far? Any songs?” Ray’s eyes dart around between Gerard and Mikey with an almost frenzied energy behind them. His hands start to fidget at his sides and he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“I have one. We have the chords for the first and second verses figured out and it… it worked pretty damn well, if I’m being honest,” Gerard says as Mikey nods beside him.

“That’s fucking awesome! I’m totally on board. Do you have anyone else?”

Mikey shakes his head. “No, just the three of us. We need a drummer and a bassist.”

“What about Otter? I still talk to him sometimes,” Ray suggests.

Gerard and Mikey look at each other. “Yeah,” they say in unison.

“I totally forgot about that guy,” Gerard says. The three of them met Matt years ago and became fast friends. They’d messed around a little with him on drums, but it never went anywhere, and they had a bit of a falling out when they all stopped playing in bands together.

“Cool,” Ray says. He looks at Mikey inquisitively for a moment, tapping his chin with his finger. “What if…” he trails off.

“What?” Mikey asks, a bit of panic seeping into his voice.

Ray sighs and drops his hand. “I’m just putting it out there… What if you played bass?”

Gerard looks at Mikey in a new light. “That’s a fucking great idea. What about it, Mikes?”

Mikey makes some sputtering noises and then finally finds the words. “I don’t have any clue how. I don’t even _own_ a bass!”

“I have two!” Ray rays excitedly.

Gerard nods between the two of them. “You’ve always wanted to learn bass, Mikey. Come on, this is your chance! It’ll be so good, you’ll see.”

“I don’t know…” Mikey sighs. “I’ll think about it.”

Ray practically jumps for joy. “Fuck yeah!”

Gerard claps Mikey on the back. The lights go down and a cheer erupts from the crowd. “Fuck _yeah!_ ” he echoes as the band takes the stage. Gerard throws himself into the surging crowd and finds that it feels like home.

~

“What if we tried it this way?” Gerard says and suggests a different rhythm for Matt to play.

“Okay, yeah, I can work with that,” he says and starts working out the equivalent on his drum set.

Gerard is beyond thankful to have Matt here. Firstly, because he doesn’t know any other drummers, and secondly because Matt’s more than willing to listen to Gerard explain something in a way that makes absolutely no sense and then translate it into something beautiful.

Mikey starts playing the chords for the bridge over Matt’s drumming, still figuring out when it’s best to pluck or strum on his bass, and Ray joins in soon after. When they get to the middle of the bridge, Gerard starts singing, “I know you don’t work here anymore...”

They finish the song and a satisfied calm falls over the group. They’re all breathing heavily, nobody saying anything, not wanting to ruin the mood.

After some time, Matt says, “We should record this.” They all whip around to look at him, and he stands his ground behind the drum set. “We should. We can do it in my attic. Next Saturday?”

Ray glances between the three of them, nodding. Mikey throws a terrified look at Gerard and mouths “I’m not ready.” Gerard mouths back “Yes you are” when he’s sure Matt and Ray aren’t looking.

Gerard clears his throat. He’s feeling just as nervous as Mikey if not more so, but he says, “Yeah, we should totally do it.” It’s been a few weeks since they started practicing together, and they’ve got four songs finished and another two that are coming along well. This is happening, and they better start acting like it. “Maybe then we can pass it around, see what people think.” ‘ _See what people think_ ,’ _fuck, I need a drink,_ Gerard thinks. Getting opinions from others, _that_ he certainly isn’t ready for. But it’s what they should be doing, the direction they should be moving.

“Yeah, I know some people who’re already interested,” Mikey offers.

Gerard raises an eyebrow at him before remembering that it’s ridiculous for him to still be surprised about the connections Mikey has. “Cool,” he says.

Ray looks at his watch. “I gotta go, guys. Good practice. See you all Saturday?”

There’s a chorus of “yeah”’s and “have a nice night!”’s as Ray leaves, and Matt heads out soon after, leaving Mikey and Gerard alone in the basement. They’d cleared almost everything out to make room for all the equipment, leaving only Gerard’s bed and dresser and a huge, paint-splattered canvas in the corner that Gerard hopes he’ll get around to finishing someday.

Mikey unplugs his bass and sets it down on a stand near the other guitars. “That guy, the Pencey Prep guy? He’s, like, _super_ excited to hear our stuff. He’ll be over the fucking moon when I tell him we’re gonna do a demo.”

 _Demo_. Mikey saying it makes it real for Gerard and his eyes widen as he looks at his brother silently.

“What, Gee?” Mikey asks.

Gerard takes a step forward. “We’re gonna make a fucking demo!” he says in an excited whisper.

Mikey brings him in for a tight hug and mumbles in his ear, “I know, dude.” He pauses, still holding Gerard, and then, “You really think I’m ready?”

Gerard pulls back and rests his hands on Mikey’s shoulders, giving him a searching look. “Yeah. I think you’re fucking great, Mikes. I mean, maybe practice a lot through this week? If you do, you’ll be golden for Saturday.”

Mikey nods. He seems to take Gerard’s advice to heart because, before he turns to leave, he grabs his bass off the rack and slings it over his shoulder. He throws a rare grin at Gerard and leaves him alone in the basement.

Gerard collapses onto his bed and replays the practice session. It had been good. Really fucking good. He can’t get enough of the feeling that fills him up when they’re together, making music. Making art. No one’s heard their stuff yet but he has this bubbling confidence that says people will like it, that people will _care_ about it, that it will make a difference, and that’s all he really wants.

He stares at the ceiling and blindly gropes his pockets for his phone, pulling it out to check the time. 11:04 pm. He’s thankful that his whole family keeps odd hours or it’d be pretty difficult for them to find time to practice what with Matt’s weird work schedule and Ray making the commute from the City. He notices without surprise that he has no missed calls or messages. It’s been almost a month since he met Frank, and he still hasn’t been able to forget that night. Gerard knows it’s partly because he hasn’t gone out and found anyone else in the meantime, but he hasn’t had the chance. Between the band and trying to make any kind of money he can from commissions, he hasn’t been to a show Mikey didn’t drag him to, let alone anywhere else he’d meet a one-night stand.

His heart clenches when he remembers how both he and Frank seemed to not want their thing to _be_ a one-night stand. But it was. Whatever. It doesn’t matter now.

Gerard rolls over and kicks off his shoes, finding that he’s suddenly exhausted. He climbs under the covers with his clothes still on, and soon falls asleep.

~

“Fuck, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Gerard says as he and Mikey walk up Matt’s driveway.

“Me neither,” Mikey says, adjusting the strap of his guitar case and raising a fist to knock on the front door.

It swings open a moment later and Matt is standing there with a wide smile on his face. “Come in, guys. Ray’s already here setting up.” He leads them through the living room and kitchen, throwing a “Want anything to drink?” over his shoulder and handing Gerard a beer from the fridge when he asks for one, before reaching the stairs that presumably lead up to the attic. “Watch your step.”

The narrow stairwell is not well lit, and Gerard stumbles a little bit on his way up, clutching the bannister as hard as he can with his free hand. Finally, they reach the top, and Gerard quickly twists off the cap of his beer and takes a long swig to calm his nerves. He sets the bottle down a moment later, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “So, where do we start?”

They record two songs, “Our lady of Sorrows” and “Cubicles.” It’s messy; nothing is together and everything sounds out of tune even though they spent a ridiculous amount of time ensuring that nothing was, but there’s something about the recording that makes Gerard’s heart swell. It’s not like with his art where, on the rare occasion that he’s proud of something he makes, he feels some sense of accomplishment. This is different. Listening to the playback, Gerard gets the feeling that the music is bigger than him, bigger than all of them. He hopes that, when the tape leaves this room, others will feel that way too.

They sit around and listen to the tape three times through, and just as Mikey’s about to flip it over and start it again, Ray says, “This is fucking big, guys.” They all turn to look at him, and find Ray’s eyes huge and inspired. “I knew us working together would be good, but this… this is unbelievable. This is _real_.”

Gerard smiles. He feels exactly the same way, and he tells Ray as much, how it seems so outlandish yet so tangible at the same time.

“I’m so fucking excited to pass this out,” Mikey says, clutching the tape.

“Hold your horses,” Matt says, snatching the tape out of Mikey’s hand. “Not before I make, like, seven hundred copies. I’ll get a few to each of you as soon as possible.”

A few minutes later, they’re packing up their stuff and heading out, a collective buzz about them as they make their way down from the attic and out onto the street in front of Matt’s house. They mill around there for a while, saying their goodbyes, before heading in separate directions.

 _Wild_ , Gerard thinks as he and Mikey walk to Gerard’s battered Subaru, _maybe my life will actually amount to something after all_.


	4. Chapter 4

Paint splatters against the canvas and some of it ricochets off, smacking the drum set and a bit of the wall in between.

“Shit,” Gerard says. Matt will probably kill him, even if it is just his extra set. He heads up to the kitchen to get something he can use to clean off the paint, and finds his mother leaning against the counter with a mug clutched firmly in her hand. “Hey, Ma,” he says, trying to gauge her mood.

She’s staring at the wall, but when she hears his voice she turns to look at him and her face softens. “Hi, honey. What are you up to today?”

“Just working on a painting I'm trying to complete,” _and probably never will_ , he finishes in his head. “Why are you home?” It’s Thursday afternoon, and he figured it’d just be him and Elena puttering around the house with everyone else at work.

Donna sighs. “Grandma wanted me to stay home with her. She’s asleep now. Don’t worry, she’s just…” She doesn’t finish and Gerard doesn’t push it.

Elena is a tough subject for all of them, as her health had declined over the past few years and it hit everyone hard. They rarely talk about it, though, and that makes it worse. Sometimes Gerard wishes he could shake each of his family members, yell at them to wake up, to be angry, to cry, to do _anything_ besides pretend that everything is fine. Instead, he holds his tongue, and he lives in silence like the rest of them.

Gerard crosses the room towards the oven and grabs a towel hanging off it, wetting a corner of it under the tap and then turning back towards the basement door. “See ya, Ma,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Gerard?” she says. Gerard can hear the slight tremble in her voice.

He turns back around. “Yeah?”

She looks at her feet, both hands now tightly gripping the mug. “She wants you to do this, you know. She wants you to do what you love. And–” she takes a deep breath and looks up at Gerard. “And I do too.”

Gerard looks at her, the weight of her words washing over him. He knows it wasn’t the smartest decision to quit his job and pursue a highly unstable career in music, and he’d figured his family was probably heavily disappointed in him and just not saying anything. At least Mikey still has his Barnes and Noble job, Gerard doesn’t have anything like that. No stability, no backup plan. Nothing. It means the fucking world to him to know that he has his family’s support. “Thank you,” he says with as much meaning behind it as he can muster, and Donna nods at him.

He returns to the basement and starts toweling off the drum set he has a new appreciation for. After he’s cleaned off as much pain as he can to the point where Matt most likely won’t notice a thing, he sets the towel down and picks up his notepad and a pen. He lays back on his bed, tapping the pen against his chin a few times. He writes, “Well let’s go back to the middle of the day that starts it all…”

~

His eyes crack open when he hears the thundering footsteps descending the stairwell behind his door. He barely has time to scrub a hand over his cheek and pull himself up onto his elbows before there’s a short knock at the door and then Mikey is bursting through it, carrying a box under one arm.

“They’re here!” Mikey yells, far too loud for this early in the morning.

Gerard looks at the clock on his bedside table. 1:42 p.m. Okay, maybe it’s just too early for him, but it’s still too loud. “Who? Poltergeist?” he says, his voice rough with sleep, and pulls himself up until he’s sitting, slumped forward and still trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“The tapes!” Mikey says even louder. He sets the box down on the end of Gerard’s bed and starts digging through it, tossing a tape at Gerard he’s far too groggy to catch. “I’m so fucking excited I could scream!”

“I’m pretty sure you already are,” Gerard grumbles. He picks up the tape and turns it over a few times in his hands. His eyes go wide when it finally clicks into place. “These are _our_ tapes.”

Mikey looks at him incredulously. “Yes, they’re _our_ tapes, you dumbass! What did you think they were?”

Gerard slides out of bed and moves to stand next to Mikey where he’s still digging through all the copies. “How many did we get?”

“Otter said he made ten for each of us, so this is twenty.” Mikey starts placing tapes on the bed one by one until there are an even amount left in the box and on the bed.

“Shit, we should give him something for these,” Gerard says.

“Nah, I asked already, he said don’t worry about it. Fuck, Gee, I can’t wait to hand these out. Will you come with me to a show tonight? There’s gonna be so many people there.”

Gerard runs a hand through his hair. “I dunno, Mikes…” He suddenly feels like he needs a drink, or a bump, or _something_ to take his mind off of the fact that soon this whole band thing will force him into social situations he will never be prepared for.

“Come on, what are you doing tonight anyway?”

Gerard scans the room for an excuse not to go, and his eyes land on his notepad. “Uhh, I’ve been working on a song, actually. It’s coming along pretty well I think. Was hoping to work on it tonight.” He’s lying through his teeth. His only plans are to get wasted, watch the Romero trilogy for the sixtieth time, and maybe paint a little, who knows.

“Oh, cool. Can I see?” Mikey actually sounds like he’s buying this, and it makes Gerard feel a little guilty. He always feels like shit when he lies and Mikey doesn’t call him on it.

“Um, sure.” He hasn’t actually worked on the song in the past few days, but there are some lyrics there, a few chords even.

Mikey walks to the cluttered dresser and grabs the notebook from where it balances precariously on the edge. He pushes his glasses up his nose and reads silently for a few moments. “This is good, Gee,” he says without looking up, his eyes still scanning left to right. “This is really good.” He meets Gerard’s eye then, and Gerard sees the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

“Thanks, Mikes. I know it’s kinda dark but–”

“No,” Mikey cuts him off, “dark is good. Dark is what we need. This is _real_ , not some sugar-coated bullshit. This is the kind of stuff that matters.”

Mikey can’t know how good it feels for Gerard to hear him say that. He hadn’t been too happy with what he’d written, thinking it was too dramatic and grandiose for anyone to take it seriously, but after hearing Mikey’s praise, Gerard thinks maybe the way the words have been taking him is the right way to go.

Mikey sets the notepad down and picks up the box of tapes. “Keep working on it,” he says as he moves towards the basement door.

“I will. Have a good time tonight, Mikes.”

Mikey waves at Gerard over his shoulder and shuts the door behind him. Gerard picks up one of the tapes from his bed and slides it into the cassette player on his dresser. He nods his head as the drums and guitar kick in and then cringes a little when he hears himself start singing. He tries to get used to it, tries to remember the elated feeling he’d had when he heard the recording those first few times right after they’d made it, how he hadn’t been embarrassed about his voice and how it sounded singing the lyrics he’d written.

He sits down on the bed again and looks down at the remaining nine tapes. He sighs. He’s got no one to give them to, except maybe the rest of his family unless Mikey’s beat him to it. He lays back on the bed and closes his eyes, listens to Ray play a solo. They snap open again almost immediately when he hears his own voice rattling through the small speaker. _I really fucking need a drink_ , he thinks.

~

He’s in the kitchen when Mikey comes home, which almost never happens. Usually he’s down in the basement working on something or already passed out when Mikey returns late at night. But tonight he’d gotten hungry, so he’d gone looking for a midnight snack and now he’s been caught with his hand sunk deep in a loud, crinkly chip bag and his mouth slightly orange with Cheeto dust.

“Eventful night, I see,” Mikey says as he steps into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for Gerard to defend himself. “Dude, guess what?” He takes a cup out of the cupboard and fills it with water from the tap. “The lead guy from Pencey was there tonight and I gave him the demo! He was so fucking excited we left and went to his car to listen to it. He fucking _loved_ it! He kept replaying it and eventually I had to drag him out of the car to get him to stop.”

Gerard manages a weak smile. He’s happy, he really is, but the room is spinning and he’s only able to catch about half of what Mikey’s saying. He’s gotten pretty good at hiding it when he’s drunk. So good that he can even trick Mikey sometimes, which he doesn’t feel good about doing, but he doesn’t want Mikey to know right now. Doesn’t want Mikey to be disappointed in him. “That’s great, Mikes,” he says, slurring only a little.

Mikey sets the cup down on the counter. “Are you drunk, Gee?”

Gerard sighs and nods, stares intently at the bag of Cheetos. Apparently, he’s not quite good enough to fool Mikey this time.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He puts and arm around Gerard and lifts him out of the seat, helping him down the stairs. “You gonna puke?” he asks when he lowers Gerard onto his bed.

Gerard carefully shakes his head. “No, ‘m good.”

“Okay.” Mikey helps him get under the covers, slipping a pillow behind his back just in case. “Sleep well, Gee.” He turns off the light and closes the door when he leaves.

Gerard lets out a shaky breath and stares at the wall. His mind is blank as it fades from view and he slips into unconsciousness.

~

“Fuck, stop,” Gerard says, sounding angrier than he means to. “Sorry, guys. I’m not getting it right. Give me a minute.” They’ve done the same verse about forty times in a row by now and he’s _still_ not getting it right. It’s frustrating as hell. But the worst part is none of the rest of them understand what he’s talking about. There are imperfections in his performance only he can hear, and it drives him mad that he’s not able to accurately express the difference between how he wants his voice to sound and what’s actually coming out of his mouth.

He sighs and cards a hand through his hair. He thinks about the lyrics, where exactly he wants the emphasis, and _how_ he wants to emphasize it. Should he go lower or higher? Louder or softer? He feels like he’s tried every possible combination and it’s just not working. The problem is, he really wants to scream. And he can, he can definitely do that. But there’s something about his deep, throaty scream that doesn’t sound right here.

“We need a screamer,” he says jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Mikey and Ray look at each other. “… We could get one?” Ray suggests tentatively.

Gerard whirls around to look at Ray. They hadn’t seriously talked about bringing anyone else on yet, though Ray and Mikey were thinking about possibly looking for a second guitarist so Ray could take lead in more places. But what they had was good, just the four of them as their own little machine. He didn’t want to bring anyone else into the mix and the proposition scared him.

“Just a suggestion. We don’t have to even talk about it,” Ray says, sensing Gerard’s discomfort.

Gerard curses himself internally. He shouldn’t be so against change, but it’s one thing he’s never done very well with. He’s surprised he’d managed such a huge shift in his life as quitting his job to start a band, and he doesn’t know how much more he can take. He opens his mouth to apologize but Mikey’s phone cuts him off with a shrill ring.

“Shit, sorry,” he says as he digs his phone out of his pocket, checks the caller ID. “I should take this. Could be about us.” He flips the phone open and moves to the corner where the rest of them can barely hear him mumbling into the receiver.

They stand around awkwardly for a few minutes while Mikey talks to whoever is on the end of the line. A little while into the conversation, Mikey’s head lifts up and his back goes ridged. He doesn’t reply for a long time, and when he does he says, “Thank you, dude. You don’t even know how much this means,” and hangs up. He slowly turns around to face them, a huge, shit-eating grin slowly spreading over his face. “Guys. Fuck, _guys!_ ” He shoves his phone into his pocket with one hand and runs a hand through his hair with the other. “We have a show!”

They all stare back at him silently for a moment, and then Ray says, “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. On the nineteenth. Some kid’s basement in Jersey City.” Mikey takes a few steps forward. “Guys, we’re–”

“We have a fucking show!” Ray cuts Mikey off and draws him into a tight hug, their guitars hanging awkwardly between them.

Matt gets up from behind his drum set, his mouth hanging open. “Shit, I didn’t expect this to happen so fast. This is fucking fantastic!”

“I _know!_ Pencey Prep got us the show. Their lead dude is gonna do merch for us, too. Which is fucking awesome.”

“Merch?” Gerard asks, his voice almost a squeak. They don’t have merch. They don’t have _anything_ other than a few songs and some leftover copies of their shitty demo. They’re not ready for this. Not in the slightest. The room suddenly feels far too small, like the walls are pressing in on him, squeezing the air out of his lungs.

Mikey looks at Gerard and his face falls when he sees the worry written all over Gerard’s face. “Yeah. We can make more copies of our demo, right?” He looks at Matt, who nods at him. “Okay, so we can sell those and… I dunno. It’s not too hard to make t-shirts, we just need a design. I know someone who has a press.” _Of course he knows someone,_ Gerard thinks, but he stays silent. “Do you think you could draw something up for us, Gee?”

“I– um, yeah. Probably. Only… Mikey, we don’t even have a _name_.” They’d been tossing a few ideas around but nothing had felt quite right. It seems a little ridiculous to get this far and not have a name yet. _How do you even book a nameless band? This Pencey Prep guy must be working some serious wonders_ , he thinks.

“Oh. Well, I was thinking– I saw this book at work the other day and it had this really cool title and I– I dunno I thought we could use it maybe…” Mikey trails off, his eyes trained on the floor.

The three of them stare at Mikey expectantly, and when he doesn’t say anything else, Matt asks, “Well, what is it?”

“Um, well the book is called _Ecstasy: Three Tales of Chemical Romance,_ so I thought maybe we could be My Chemical Romance.”

Silence falls over the room while the name sinks in. Gerard can’t explain the feeling that fills his belly when he hears it, like he’s full even though he hasn’t eaten in… shit, he doesn’t know how long. It feels _right_ , like it puts a name to everything he’s been writing, gives it a structure.

“Jesus, Mikes,” Gerard says after a while. He breaks out in a smile. “How do you come up with this shit?”

Mikey shrugs, and smiles back.

“My Chemical Romance,” Ray says. “Fuck, that’s us.”

 _Yeah,_ Gerard thinks, _it is_. And suddenly he can breathe again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortest chapter so far, sorry. Next one is... very long... and exciting.

“Shit, Mikey. What the fuck am I _doing?_ ” Gerard stares up at Mikey with wide, defeated eyes from where he sits on the floor amongst the piles of clothes.

“You’re doing fine, Gee. Just pick out something you’re comfortable in.”

“But that won’t be _cool_. I’m in a band! I _have_ to be cool!”

Mikey sighs and sits down next to Gerard. “I hate to break this to you, but you’re never gonna be cool. That’s just not you. And what you _should_ be up there on stage is yourself.”

Gerard looks down at dirty sock by his hip. “Okay.”

“It’s gonna be great. They’re gonna love us, and you.”

Gerard nods, but he’s not convinced. His stomach is churning with nerves and he eyes the corner of his room where he knows there’s a bottle of cheap whisky stashed away. As soon as Mikey leaves him alone, he digs it out and pours himself a drink. And then another. And another. And by the fourth shot he’s starting to feel okay, but he could feel better. They’ve got a few hours before they need to leave for the venue, and Gerard is worried about staying drunk enough for that amount of time, plus the whole show. He knows he won’t be able to get up on that stage sober, and he’d been prepared for that, but he didn’t think his nerves would hit him this early. It’s just an _outfit_ , for fuck’s sake. But for some reason it seems like the most important decision he’s ever had to make.

He downs his fifth shot and looks around the room, which seems a little softer around the edges than before. His eyes land on something draped over the door handle. _Mikey_ , he thinks as he approaches the door and picks up the belt with a silver bat for a buckle, _fuck, I haven’t seen this thing in ages_. He slides the belt through the loops in his jeans and poses in front of the mirror, cocking a hip. It feels good, it feels right. He smiles at his reflection a little, feeling confident for the first time in far too long.

~

They get to the house sometime after eight, running only slightly late. As he and Mikey step out of the car, Gerard is relieved to see Matt walking in the front door and Ray waiting across the threshold. At least they don’t have to worry about anyone not showing up.

“I’m gonna go find the merch booth,” Mikey says as he hefts the large box full of t-shirts he had disappeared with one night and returned with the various designs Gerard had drawn magically printed on every single one.

“I’ll go with you.” He grabs Mikey’s bass from the back seat and the two of them head across the lawn.

Matt and Ray greet them as they reach the front door, and they quickly close it behind them so as to not disturb the neighbors with the loud music spilling out onto the street. Ray offers to take Mikey’s bass which Gerard hands over, and then Matt gives him a box of extra copies of their demo. After some small talk, Matt and Ray decide to go start checking the equipment and Mikey and Gerard renew their search for the merch booth that supposedly exists somewhere in the basement.

The four of them make their way through the kids who are milling around, drinking and talking and making out, and finally find the appropriate staircase down to the lower level. It’s dark in the basement, and the amount of couples pressed against each other in the corners or even in the middle of the room seems to have doubled from the floor above them.

“There,” Mikey says to Gerard as he points at a wall with various t-shirts and hoodies pinned up against it, and Gerard and Mikey split off from the group to head in that direction.

As they get closer, Gerard sees that part of the wall had been left blank for them to put up their own stuff, and someone is seated behind a table directly below it, who Gerard guesses is the dude who had agreed to do merch for them.

He’s looking down at his phone, and doesn’t seem to notice them approach. Mikey sets the box down on the table in front of them and the guy quickly looks up.

Gerard’s breath catches in his throat.

“So, we have a few different designs…” Mikey launches into talking about the shirts, not noticing that no one is paying attention to him.

Gerard and Frank’s eyes are locked together. Frank’s eyebrows rise towards his hairline and Gerard’s mouth falls open, but neither of them say anything. Frank _is the guy that Mikey’s been going on about?_ Frank _is the guy who loves our music?_ Gerard can’t quite believe it. It’s too perfect of a coincidence, and a small part of him feels that, if this is really happening, then this was _meant_ to be, that he and Frank were fucking destined to meet again. That small part is screaming very, very loud.

“Uhh… Is something going on?” Mikey finally catches on to the fact that Frank and Gerard are too caught up in each other to pay attention to anything else.

“Um.” Gerard shifts his weight from one foot to the other, not breaking eye contact with Frank. “We… know each other.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Gerard sees Mikey clamp his mouth shut and nod. He must know that that’s the absolute most obvious code for “We fucked once and haven’t seen each other since.”

“I’ll just… go. See you guys later.” Mikey fades back into the crowd without another word.

Gerard and Frank are still staring at each other, Frank having said absolutely nothing so far. Realizing that he’ll have to be the one to make an effort at conversation, Gerard starts, “I–”

“You never called.” Frank cuts in.

Gerard sputters at the accusation. “Neither did you!”

Frank’s resolve falters a little. “Well, yeah…”

“I lost your number. On accident,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” Frank looks down at his fingers where they’re threaded together on the table.

Gerard sets the box of demos down on the table and crosses his arms. “So? What’s your excuse?”

“I– I don’t know, I just–” Frank lets out a long breath and meets Gerard’s eye again. “I didn’t know if you were serious. I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.” He looks off to the side and quietly adds, “It’s happened to me before.”

Gerard softens and drops his arms to his sides. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t, for the record.” He smiles, and brightens inside when Frank returns it. “Wanna give me your number again so I can prove it?”

“Totally.” Frank recites the number and Gerard programs it directly into his phone, just as he should have the first time it was given to him. “All right, what’ve you got?” Frank says before popping the lid open on one of the boxes and dragging out a few t-shits. “Nice! Who designed this?” he asks, referring to the vampire drawing on one of them.

“Oh, um. I did.” Gerard always feels awkward when people talk about his art, regardless of whether it’s praise or criticism.

“Holy shit, dude! That’s awesome! Singer, artist, what other talents are you hiding?”

Gerard doesn’t know what to say to that, but it makes something light and pleasant bubble up inside him, just under the surface. He tries to ignore the way Frank’s t-shirt is tight against his skin and his jeans are slung low on his hips, or how Frank’s hair looks even better now that it’s grown out a little, now that it’s long enough to pull properly.

“I’ll pin these up,” Frank tells him, “You should go get ready. You go on in, like, half an hour, I think.”

Gerard gulps and nods. _Half an hour, fuck!_ He needs more time, more time, more _time_. This can’t be happening so soon. He turns around and quickly heads towards the makeshift stage where he sees Ray and Matt setting up equipment.

“Hey, Gee– Are you all right?” Ray’s smile shifts to a look of deep concern when he sees the panic written all over Gerard’s face.

“I’m okay, just– Where’s the green room or whatever?”

“Uhh there’s a bedroom back that way.” Matt points down a dark hallway. “We’ve been keeping our stuff in there.”

“Got it.” Gerard hurries towards the open door and finds Mikey waiting for him when he enters, sitting on the bed and texting vigorously, looking nowhere near as nervous as Gerard.

“What’s up?” Mikey looks at Gerard when he pauses typing for a second.

“I don’t feel good.” At the moment, Mikey is the only person he feels comfortable confessing to, and boy, does he need to confess. “I don’t think I can do this, Mikes.”

“Gee–” Mikey sighs and slides his phone into his pocket. He gets to his feet and walks to where Gerard is standing awkwardly in the doorway. “You’re gonna be great. Everything is gonna be just fine. _Breathe_ , okay?”

Gerard nods. “Okay.” He takes some slow breaths in and out before spotting a bottle of vodka on the dresser. “Is that for us?”

Mikey laughs. “Yeah, compliments of the host.”

Gerard snatches it up and, finding no cups near him, takes a long drink straight from the bottle. “Shit, I needed that,” he says before taking another gulp.

Mikey checks his phone for the time. “We don’t go on for another twenty minutes but Ray said we should go out there at test stuff out because we didn’t have a real soundcheck.”

Gerard nearly drops the bottle. “In front of everyone?” His voice shakes and his eyes go wide.

“Yeah, I mean, no one will be paying attention to us until we actually start playing.”

“Yes, they will,” Gerard says with conviction. “They’ll be watching us and analyzing our every move and–”

“Okay, you don’t have to do it. I’ll go now, we’ll check your mic for you, and I’ll come get you before we play.”

Gerard looks down, embarrassed. But he’s thankful Mikey understands his need to never be in situations like that. It makes him more than uncomfortable to be under the scrutiny of others, and he knows he’ll only barely get through their show tonight with the help of the music and how much they all believe in it. “Thanks, Mikes.”

Mikey lays a hand on Gerard’s shoulder and smiles at him as their eyes meet. “Hey, no worries. I’ll be back soon.” He closes the door behind him as he leaves.

Gerard looks down at the bottle in his hand, sighs, and lifts it to his lips.

~

When Mikey returns, Gerard is a little fucked up. Maybe more than a little. He hadn’t expected the vodka to hit him this hard this fast but it certainly has, and now he’s stumbling out of the bedroom and up to the stage area with bleary eyes and a clouded mind.

“Hey, everybody,” he says into the mic. He can’t see shit in the dim lighting in the basement, and he wonders if anyone in the audience can even see his face. The thought comforts him a little. “Uhh… we’re My Chemical Romance. Thanks for coming out.”

The show passes in a blur. Gerard doesn’t remember it too well, but he’s pretty sure he got all the lyrics right and actually said some pretty witty things to the audience here and there. He could definitely be wrong about both of those, though. Still, when they’re done playing everyone is laughing and high fiving each other and Gerard gets a little lost in the excitement of it all. Mikey slaps Gerard on the back and gives him a beaming smile.

They did it. They played their first show. This is happening, they’re really, actually doing this. Gerard isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the long and exciting chapter. I hope you all like it :)
> 
> I wanted to say a quick thank you to all of you for your support. It really means a lot that you guys are enjoying this story, and every time I see there's a new kudos or a comment my day gets so much better. Thank you lots!

After they’ve finished packing up their stuff (and Gerard’s had a little more to drink), they make their way over to the merch booth. To Gerard’s surprise, Frank is swamped with kids waving money at his face when they get there. They all help out, and even sign a few items here and there. Gerard has a little trouble counting out the change correctly, but overall, he thinks he does all right, and getting to actually sell _their merch_ is exhilarating. He never thought they’d get this far. Even when he was designing the shirts, he figured no one would actually _buy_ them. But here he is, passing item after item over the table in front of him and smiling uncontrollably at their new-found fans.

“When are you guys playing next?” a boy asks Gerard at one point.

“Uhh…” Gerard looks helplessly at Mikey, who just shrugs.

“November sixteenth. You’ll hear about it,” Frank says as he hands the kid the shirt he asked for.

“Cool. Thanks.” The kid turns around and leaves the rest of them to stare open-mouthed at Frank.

“We already have a second show booked?” Ray asks.

Frank doesn’t look at any of them, and instead busies himself with organizing the few shirts and tapes left now that most of the crowd has cleared out. “Yeah, a buddy of mine heard your demo. He wants you to play at his party that night. _Just_ you guys.” They’re all silent for a moment, eyes darting between each other and Frank, and then, “I’m sorry, guys. I should have asked you first, but I was so excited to get you guys playing shows I–”

“Frank,” Matt cuts in, his voice serious, “you got us a headlining gig?”

Frank looks at him with apologetic and slightly fearful eyes. He nods.

Ray breaks out in a huge smile. “Dude! You’re the fucking _best!_ ” He and Matt high five while Mikey brings Frank into a tight hug.

“Thanks, man. Like, seriously. Thanks,” Mikey says as he pulls back.

The fear falls from Frank’s face and he mimics the smiles around him. “Fuck, I thought you guys were gonna kill me.” He laughs.

“Fuck no! This is amazing,” Matt says and claps Frank on the shoulder.

“Hey, guys,” Ray says as he turns back around from looking at the stage, “I think the next band is about to come on.”

“Let’s go,” Mikey says, and he, Ray, and Matt make their way into the crowd, leaving Gerard and Frank alone at the merch table.

Gerard looks at his feet awkwardly for a moment, still trying to process the fact that they have a second show, and that it won’t just be a warm-up act for another band. It feels like too much responsibility. It feels like something he has no idea how to handle.

“You mad at me?” Frank asks tentatively as he sits down in the rickety chair at his side.

Gerard isn’t sure what Frank is referring to, but he isn’t mad, and he tells Frank as much as he takes a seat in the second chair beside Frank.

“Then what’s up?” Frank tilts his head to look at Gerard, trying to meet his eye.

Gerard looks down at where his hands rest on the table. He knows he's being way more dramatic than necessary, and Frank doesn’t deserve to be bogged down with his troubles, but he can’t help feeling like Frank actually _cares_ and really wants him to let out all he’s been feeling. Gerard breathes out slow through his nose. “I just– I can’t talk about it with the guys, other than Mikey sometimes, but I’m fucking _terrified_ of this. This is what I’ve been dead set on doing since the Towers fell, but I don’t think I can handle this shit. I’m used to not leaving my basement for days at a time. I have periods where I can’t do anything creative for _weeks_. I don’t know what I’ll do if I’ll be letting people down when I can’t get out of the house or finish writing a new song in time.” He lets out another breath, one that’s shaky this time. “I feel like quitting. I feel like running. I feel like giving up before I’m in too deep.”

Frank slowly reaches out and places one of his hands over Gerard’s. “Hey,” he says, and their eyes finally meet. Gerard suddenly feels like he’s drowning, like he couldn’t drag himself up to the surface even with all his might. Somehow, looking at Frank makes him not even want to try. Like maybe the waves could comfort him, and the cool pressure of the water on his skin is exactly what he needs. “You’re freaking out. It’s okay to freak out. You’ll be figuring out how all this works for a while, and it’ll be weird and uncomfortable and awkward.” Frank starts to slowly rub his thumb along the back of Gerard’s hand. “But, before you even realize it, it’ll feel right. It’ll feel so good and perfect that you won’t even remember when it didn’t.”

Frank smiles at him, and Gerard can’t help but smile back. Just then, then next band comes on, and they couldn’t have a coherent conversation over the sound of the opening song even if they’d had more to say.

Frank leans in and says in Gerard’s ear, “Wanna go watch the show?” He nearly has to shout over the music to be heard, but somehow it still feels intimate.

Gerard nods and pulls Frank to his feet, holding onto his hand as they head towards the surging crowd.

They move together, just as they had the night they met. Gerard finds that even though that was months in the past, their bodies haven’t forgotten the flawless way they fit together. It seems that they were meant to operate like this, grinding against each other and breathing hard in the other’s ear. It’s hot, sure, and Gerard is certainly turned on, but it’s more about how _right_ it feels. He thinks that maybe this is what Frank meant about becoming familiar with something that scares the hell out of you at first, because if it ever felt less than perfect to slide his body against Frank’s he doesn’t remember it in the slightest.

“You wanna get out of here?” Frank says low into Gerard’s ear after the band has been playing for a while.

“Fuck yeah I do.” Gerard grins and the two of them make their way out of the crowd towards the exit. The climb the long set of stairs out of the basement and finally reach the street where a few kids are out on the lawn, drinking and chatting.

“I should leave the car for Mikey, he has the extra key,” Gerard says.

Frank nods and the two head in the direction of his sedan. As they walk, Gerard fiddles with his hands, just to have something to do with them. He’s surprised at how nervous he feels, and the fact that he can’t stop thinking that maybe they shouldn’t be doing this. He wants to, _God_ , he wants to. But they’re involved in the same scene and if people in either of their bands find out about them, Gerard isn’t sure how they’ll react. The only person he can count on to not freak out is Mikey, but even that isn’t entirely true because Mikey _knows_ Frank. And Gerard can’t in any way predict how the rest of his bandmates or the other members of Pencey Prep would take the news that their front men have been hooking up behind everyone’s backs.

When they’re seated in the car, Gerard swallows hard and chances a glance over at Frank. Frank fumbles with the keys before he finally slides one into the ignition and turns the engine over. As he pulls out of his parking spot, his fingers start tapping on the steering wheel and his eyes dart between the faces of the people they pass, fast and anxious.

Gerard reaches out and touches Frank’s hand where it drums against the wheel, and Frank’s fingers abruptly still as if he didn’t even realize they were moving. He glances over at Gerard and they share a small smile. Gerard feels his phone buzz in his pocket and removes his hand to dig it out, and is greeted by a text from Mikey.

“Where are you???” it reads.

Gerard wracks his brain for some excuse that Mikey would buy, but comes up with nothing and types, “Left with Frank. Be home later.” He sighs and shoves the phone back into his pocket.

He smiles again at Frank, but thinks to himself, _this could get messy._

~

Frank holds the door to his apartment open for Gerard and, as soon as he steps through it, closes it and pins Gerard to the back of the door. Frank surges up and presses his lips to Gerard’s and kisses him hot and heavy and needy. Gerard gives back and slides his hips against Frank’s as best he can with the door digging into his back. Frank pushes a knee in between Gerard’s legs and presses forward impossibly closer. A moan falls from Gerard’s lips as Frank glides a thigh over his hardening cock and tilts his head back against the door, breaking the kiss.

Frank stares up at him, his eyes dark. They flick down to a spot just above Gerard’s collar bone and in an instant his lips are attached there, sucking a nipping at the skin.

Gerard moans again and feels the skin swell under Frank’s lips. The thought of Frank leaving marks on him gives him a jolt of energy. Being marked means ownership, even if it’s only for the night.

Frank pulls away and breathes out, “Bed,” before tugging Gerard down the narrow hallway towards the bedroom.

They fall unceremoniously onto the mattress as soon as they reach it and Frank quickly crawls on top of Gerard. “Been thinking about you,” he says between kisses. “Been thinking about this, your cock. _Fuck_ , I missed your cock.” He grinds down on Gerard as he says it, pressing his ass into the hard outline of Gerard’s erection in his sweaty jeans.

Gerard gasps, and then chuckles a little. “I missed your ass. Your cute, tiny ass.”

“Shut up,” Frank says and then pushes his tongue into Gerard’s mouth to make sure he does.

Gerard slides his hands under Frank’s shirt and shoves it up as high as he can get it, tracing his fingers over the exposed skin of Frank’s chest. He dips them lower, into the waistband of Frank’s jeans and cups his ass through his underwear, pulling him in closer and grinding their bodies together.

“ _Shit_ ,” Frank says as he breaks away. He scrambles out of his shirt and starts messing with Gerard’s until Gerard does the same and their naked chests are pressed together. Frank continues grinding down against Gerard and leans his head in close, so his lips touch Gerard’s ear. “Been fuckin’ wanting this. Ever since you walked out that door last time. Wanted to pull you right back in for round two,” he says, his voice dangerous and low.

“Fuck, me too.” Gerard is having trouble breathing with the friction against his cock that’s somehow too much and nowhere near enough at the same time. “Was so fuckin’ mad when I lost your number. Couldn’t imagine never seeing you again.” Frank pulls his head back and looks Gerard in the eye. His mouth is hanging open a little and Gerard can feel the hot breathes from it on his face. “Couldn’t imagine never seeing you like _this_ again.”

Frank makes a low growling sound in his throat and drags himself off Gerard. He sits back on his heels and moves to Gerard’s belt. Frank smiles when he sees the bat buckle. “This thing is cool,” he says, and starts undoing Gerard’s pants, yanking them down as quickly as he can.

“Thanks,” Gerard says and helps him along by kicking his jeans down to his ankles, going straight for Frank’s fly when he’s done. He shoves Frank’s jeans and boxers down around his knees and wraps a hand around Frank’s cock while Frank palms him through his underwear.

Frank leans in again, their noses almost touching. “Want you to fuck me.” He takes in a sharp breath as Gerard circles his thumb over the head of his dick. “Please, Gee. Please fuck me. I need it.”

Gerard pushes up and kisses Frank soft on the mouth. “Aw, sugar. Anything for you.”

Frank smiles and climbs off of him. His pants and boxers drop to the ground and he steps out of them, toeing off his shoes as he does. Gerard does the same, and when they’re both naked he pulls Frank back on top of him. Their dicks slide together as they grind their hips and Frank leans down to place kisses over Gerard’s chest.

Gerard reaches over to the bedside table where he knows Frank keeps his condoms and lube and slathers one of his hands up. He trails his fingers down Frank’s back, pausing just above the swell of his ass to stroke the sensitive skin there.

Frank’s mouth stops working and his eyes slip closed. “Jesus, fuck,” he says, his voice sounding like he’s just chain-smoked through two packs.

Gerard hums and slides his hand down further, circling his middle finger over Frank’s hole. It’s incredible to watch Frank fall apart above him. Gerard sees the small flickers of a hundred different emotions flash in a second as he presses the tip of his finger in. He can’t get much more in at this angle, so after just a moment of massaging Frank’s hole with his finger, he pulls out and quickly flips them over. Frank goes easily, falling onto his back beneath Gerard.

Gerard settles in between Frank’s legs and pushes the tip of his middle finger back in. Frank groans and presses down against the intrusion. Gerard’s finger slips in easily all the way to the knuckle, and he leaves it there for a moment, allowing Frank to get used to the stretch. He wraps his other hand loosely around Frank’s cock and jerks it slowly as he pulls his finger out almost all the way and then pushes in again.

The sounds falling from Frank’s perfect lips are more than sinful – they’re fucking _divine_ , and Gerard can’t get enough of them. He’d give anything to be able to spend the rest of his life here, in Frank’s bed, feeling the way Frank’s body reacts to him and nearly _tasting_ how good he knows it feels. He’d give anything to make Frank feel this good forever.

Frank manages to open his eyes a crack and moan, “Please, Gee. I need more.”

Gerard nods and leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to Frank’s inner thigh and then sucking hard on the spot, knowing it will leave an angry, red mark and draw countless moans from Frank. He pulls his middle finger out and slowly adds his index finger as he presses back in, still with his lips attached to the raised skin on Frank’s leg. His fingers slide all the way in, and Gerard begins to test out different angles until–

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Frank’s eyes fly open and he stares down at Gerard, slack-jawed. Gerard presses in at the same angle again and Frank’s eyes slip closed and his head falls back against the pillow as he lets out an earth shattering moan.

Gerard chuckles against Frank’s thigh and then moves forward, licking a stripe up the underside of Frank’s cock.

“Oh my _God_. Fucking hell.” Frank fists his hands in the sheets as Gerard closes his mouth over the head of his cock. Gerard’s fingers are still moving steadily inside him, and he fucks himself back down against them. “I fucking– fuck I need–”

Gerard hums inquisitively around Frank’s cock and looks up at him with searching eyes. Frank can’t bring his eyes to open, but he pushes up with his hips and slides more of his dick into Gerard’s mouth. Gerard eagerly takes more and slowly slides down to the hilt, swallowing around Frank and then pulling back up again.

“Gee, I can’t fuckin’– I can’t hold on much longer.” His breathing is erratic and his hips are moving faster now, trying to get Gerard to fuck him harder with his fingers. “I – _ahh_ – I s-still want you to fuck me.” When Gerard doesn’t stop moving his fingers or mouth, Frank says, “ _Please_ , Gerard. I can’t stop.”

Gerard keeps going for a moment longer, and right before he senses Frank is about to fall over the edge, he pulls off completely. He sits up between Frank’s legs and slowly strokes his own hard, leaking cock. Frank groans from the lack of contact and fights to sit up and open his eyes. He succeeds, and watches Gerard as he jerks himself off, his eyes constantly flicking between Gerard’s face and his dick, not sure which to focus on.

For the most part, Gerard has never really felt sexy. When he’s with a partner, he tries his hardest to keep the focus on them so as little attention as possible is drawn to his own body. The thought of someone else watching him jerk off would usually make his skin crawl; to be under the scrutinizing gaze of someone who’s seeing him at his most vulnerable is something Gerard would never imagine enjoying. But, for some reason, he doesn’t feel that way with Frank. Instead, Frank makes him feel desirable, hot, sexy. He makes Gerard feel comfortable in his skin for once. Gerard could get real used to the way Frank looks at him.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Frank says as he gets to his hands and knees in front of Gerard. He sinks down and pushes Gerard’s hand out of the way, wrapping his own around Gerard’s erection and slowly pumping it. “Your _cock_ is so fucking hot.” He looks up at Gerard and cracks a smile. “I seriously can’t get over it. You have the _best_ cock.” He looks down again and then slides his lips over the head.

Gerard takes in a sharp breath as Frank takes more of him into his mouth. He lets the breath out with a long string of curses and moans. Frank hallows out his cheeks and looks up at Gerard through his lashes, the beautiful eyes and lips Gerard hasn’t been able to get out of his head _right there_ in front of him. He almost can’t believe it.

Frank starts to bob his head faster, but Gerard pulls him back and pushes him down onto the bed again. He reaches for the condoms and quickly slides one on, and then snatches up the bottle of lube and lathers some on his cock.

Frank is laying on his back, looking up at Gerard _hungrily_ , and Gerard can’t believe he’s got this hot guy in bed with him, and that this guy wants him _this much_. It’s unreal. It’s everything he’s been dreaming about for the past two months, and he’s half scared he’s about to wake up at any moment.

Gerard loops his arms under Frank’s thighs and pulls him forward forcefully. Frank gasps as he’s suddenly sliding down the bed and then smiles up at Gerard when he notices that Gerard’s cock is now poised at his entrance. Gerard lets his eyes burn into Frank’s as he slowly pushes inside. Frank’s mouth falls open yet again and a high-pitched moan comes out of it as Gerard bottoms out. They stay there like that for a moment before Gerard starts pulling back and then thrusts in again, still moving excruciatingly slowly.

“Gee, please. Fuck, _please!_ I want it hard, Gee.” Frank’s breathing has grown rapid again, almost panicked. He looks up at Gerard with searching eyes and says, “Give it to me.”

Gerard grunts and pulls back again, nearly all the way, and then thrusts in hard. They both yell “Fuck!” at the same time, and Gerard picks up a quick pace right away.

Frank begins to chant Gerard’s name on every thrust and then screams when Gerard pushes in on the right spot. He grips Gerard’s arms hard and pulls him in closer, crushing their mouths together.

Gerard is thankful that Frank lives alone because the guy is fucking _loud_ and the headboard is banging against the wall and he’s pretty sure they knocked over one of the bedside tables. He wouldn’t know, though, because he can’t tear his eyes away from Frank’s face as he fucks him relentlessly. He starts to worry when he feels his orgasm bubbling up, but is relieved when Frank says, “Gee, I can’t– I’m gonna–” and moves a hand to his cock.

Their moans grow to a fever pitch, and then Frank is spilling come all over his stomach and Gerard follows shortly after, his orgasm rocking through him as he comes inside Frank.

Gerard pulls out and collapses beside Frank on the bed. He tugs the condom off and tosses it into the waste in beside the bed, thanking God when it actually makes it because he doesn’t think he’d have the energy to go clean it up if it hadn’t. They breathe hard next to each other, shoulders touching. After a while, Frank rolls over towards Gerard and rests his cheek against Gerard’s chest, slides a hand over Gerard’s belly.

“Can I ask you a favor?” he says, still trying to catch his breath.

Gerard looks down at him. “Yeah, totally.”

“Will you stay tonight?”

Gerard’s heart swells and his fingers and toes tingle. He smiles and presses a kiss to the top of Frank’s head. “Of course.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I'm ignoring for this story:  
> Frank ever having had dreads (gross, not sexy. sorry)  
> Rutgers being like 40 mins away from Belleville (shh....)  
> The unlikelihood that Frank would have been able to afford his own apartment (it's fine shhhhhhh. also I'm gonna talk about it later)

Gerard wakes to the smell and sound of frying potatoes. His head is killing him, and the light seeping in through the small window above the bed isn’t helping, but the promise of breakfast and, more importantly, Frank gives him the energy to drag himself out of bed.

He pulls on jeans over his underwear and pads to the kitchen where he finds Frank standing at the stove in a pair of blue boxers, whistling quietly to himself. Frank hasn’t heard his approach, and Gerard takes the opportunity to observe Frank when he thinks no one is watching. Frank swings his hips back and forth a little to the tune he’s making up on the spot, or, it at least seems he is because it’s nothing Gerard recognizes and every so often he goes a little out of tune and then corrects it to a note that makes more sense. Finally, Frank turns off the burner and scrapes two equally sized mountains of hash browns onto the plates he has set out on the counter.

“Hey,” Gerard says when Frank has placed the pan back on the stove, just in case he startles him.

But Frank doesn’t startle one bit. Instead, he turns towards Gerard with a wide grin. “You’re up!” Frank seems genuinely happy to be able to spend more time with him, and it warms Gerard’s heart.

Gerard returns his smile and takes a step into the kitchen. “Yeah. What time is it?” he asks, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Almost one. You don’t have anywhere to be, do you?” Franks smile falls and his brows furrow in concern. “I would have woken you up but you were out pretty hard,” he adds.

“No, no. I don’t have anything going on today. Sorry I slept so long, though.” Gerard scratches the back of his head, feeling awkward and embarrassed for the first time since he and Frank left the venue last night. He doesn’t like exposing his bad habits to anyone, even people he’s comfortable with, and always feels ashamed when they become obvious. He isn’t proud of how much he drinks on an average night or how much it takes out of him the following day. But he _is_ proud that he didn’t puke in front of Frank. Or, at least, he doesn’t remember puking, and that’s almost as good.

“Dude, don’t worry about it. I only got up, like, half an hour ago or something.” Gerard has the feeling Frank is lying, but he’s not about to call him out on it. “Want some hash browns?” Frank asks, already holding one of the plates out for Gerard.

“Yeah, thanks.” Gerard accepts a plate, and adds a slice of toast and a few pieces of melon from the other breakfast food items Frank has laid out for them. The two of them sit at Frank’s small kitchen table and start in on their food.

After a minute, Frank says, “How do you know Mikey? Is he, like, your roommate?”

Gerard laughs. “Sort of. He’s my brother.”

Frank’s eyes go a little wide and he says, “Seriously?” Gerard nods, and Frank looks down at his food. “You know, that actually makes a lot of sense. Wow. Small world, huh?”

“Yeah. Small world,” Gerard says as he catches Frank’s smile and returns it.

They eat in silence for a few more minutes, and Frank breaks it again when he says, “My birthday’s coming up. Not for, like, a week and a half but I don’t know if I’ll see you before then. So I wanted to let you know you’re totally invited to the party.”

Gerard attempts to hide his discomfort, but it’s difficult. He doesn’t like parties. He doesn’t _do_ parties, and he never has. Not in high school, not in college, and definitely not now when his friend list has dwindled to his brother and a few art school guys who can count on one hand the amount of times they’ve left their comfort zone. “That’s awesome! How old are you gonna be?” he asks, trying to sidestep the invitation.

Gerard can tell Frank is trying to keep his expression even, but Gerard notices the way his eyes shift from Gerard’s face to the empty space over his shoulder and his hand tenses around the fork he’s holding. “Twenty.”

Gerard’s mouth drops open. “You’re _nineteen?_ ”

Frank looks down at the table and rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “Yeah.”

“Oh, shit. Is this, like… okay? I mean, I’m more than four years older than you. Is this weird? It doesn’t feel weird. Do you feel weird? Fuck, I’m sorry. I never thought–”

Frank laughs. “Dude, stop freaking out. It’s all good, it’s not weird. I promise.”

Gerard relaxes a bit, but he’s still not quite satisfied. “Are you sure?”

Frank nods. “Yeah. I’m sorry for, like, deceiving you, I guess. I mean, we met at a twenty-one-plus club so it’s not like you had any reason to believe I was younger than that.”

 “You didn’t _deceive_ me. I started going to that place as soon as I looked old enough to get in, so I shouldn’t have assumed how old you were. I’m…” Gerard looks down at his plate. “I’m sorry for not making sure you were okay with me being older. Fuck, I feel like shit.”

“Hey,” Frank says, and Gerard looks up again. “I really like you. You’re a cool guy, Gee. I think we could really… have something. And I knew that from the moment I met you, so, you don’t have to worry.” He takes a breath. “But, thank you for really making sure I’m comfortable with this. That means a lot.”

“Of course, Frankie.” There’s a pause in the conversation, and then Gerard asks, “Are you in college?”

“Yeah, I’m a sophomore.” Frank smiles at him a little.

Gerard can’t help but smile back at him. “Where do you go to school?” He finds that he’s deeply interested in Frank. For some reason, Gerard wants to know everything that Frank is willing to tell him. He thinks he could probably sit here and listen to whatever Frank wants to talk about for hours and not get bored, which is weird because that’s usually the kind of thing Gerard’s friends and family have to put up with they spend time with _him_.

“Rutgers. I like it but… I don’t think I’m really going anywhere with school. I don’t want to go into business, which is what my parents want me to do. I wanna do music. That’s where my heart is.” Frank’s smile falls and he looks down at the kitchen table. “But I don’t think Pencey is ever gonna take off. We’re putting out our first album in a month and we’ll probably tour on it a little, but the band isn’t doing great. We fight and bicker and someone threatens to quit every other week. I haven’t written anything in _ages_ because the thought of bringing it to practice just to be shot down again makes me sick to my stomach.” Frank breathes out a heavy sigh. “This is what I want to do. I _know_ it’s what I want to do for the rest of my life. But I can’t see it happening with Pencey and if that falls apart…” Frank’s eyes move to the ceiling again and Gerard can see the tears threatening to spill over. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Hey,” Gerard says, sliding a hand across the table to cover one of Frank’s. Frank looks at him and the air between them is suddenly very charged. Gerard has the feeling that this is an important moment for them, that this could make or break whatever it is they have. “I can’t promise you things are gonna work out. My attempt at an art career is proof that they don’t, at least not all the time. But I _can_ promise you that you’re never gonna be happy if you live your life for anyone else. And if music is what you want to do, then you _have_ to keep trying.”

Frank cracks a small smile and looks down at where their hands are joined. “Thanks, Gee. That means a lot. And thanks for not, like, sugar coating things. It’s good to hear it straight.”

“Don’t mention it.” Gerard gently taps the back of Frank’s hand with his own and then withdraws it, not sure what else to say.

There’s silence for a moment, and then Frank says, “So, tell me about this failed art career.” His eyes are bright and his heart-stopping grin is back.

Gerard laughs, and tells him.

~

Before Gerard leaves, they fuck again. Frank rides his cock for what feels like hours, a quickie turned marathon session. There’s one moment where Gerard looks up at Frank as he’s rolling his hips down, and the afternoon light hits Frank’s body just right. Gerard can see the glistening sweat rolling down Frank’s chest and stomach, and he can see the relentless fire burning in Frank’s eyes as they catch Gerard’s when their hips meet.

Gerard doesn’t want it to be over. More than anything, he wants to stay here, buried in Frank and letting the day pass them by. But in that moment, all the pieces fit together and Gerard is suddenly right at the edge. As he falls over it, he feels Frank clench around him and through closing eyes he sees Frank follow him into ecstasy.

They’ve been lying in bed, coming down from their orgasms for nowhere near long enough when Gerard’s phone rings on the bedside table and Mikey asks where the fuck he is because they promised to have dinner with the family tonight and Mom is already setting the table.

“Shit!” Gerard says as he hops out of bed, yelling “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Mikes!” down the line and pulling on his pants.

“What’s going on?” Frank sits up in bed with a look of deep concern on his face.

“I forgot about family dinner. Gotta go or Mom will skin me alive.” His eyes scan the room for his boots and he finds one in the corner near one of Frank’s amps but the other seems nowhere to be seen.

“Oh,” Frank says as he starts to slide out from under the covers. He sits on the edge of the bed and reaches down for the shirt on the floor at his feet.

“What are you doing?” Gerard asks as he crosses the room to retrieve his other boot from where he spotted it behind a lamp they knocked over sometime in the last eighteen hours.

Frank looks at him once his face reappears through the neck of his t-shirt. “I’ll drive you.”

Gerard had, once again, forgotten that Frank drove them here. “Oh. Thanks.”

They finish pulling on their clothes and are soon making their way out to Frank’s car. They drive in silence, other than when Gerard speaks up to give Frank directions. He’d like to spend more time talking to Frank, but he can’t bring himself to make conversation right now. Instead, he anxiously bounces his knee and reads through the long list of texts he had missed since he and Frank left the venue the previous night. Most of them are from Mikey, wondering where he is and asking if everything is okay. There are a few from his mom earlier that morning, reminding him about the family dinner that had completely slipped his mind. He texts both of them “On my way. Sorry,” and then to Mikey adds, “We’ll talk.”

He lets out a long breath and tries to take his mind off of talking to his brother about his relationship with Frank. It’s either that or lie to him about it, and Gerard can’t decide which option is worse. Frank glances his way and offers him a weak smile, which Gerard returns.

“Sorry I have to leave,” Gerard says as he looks forward again. “I’m so stupid for forgetting about this thing.”

“Nah, man. It’s all good. It was nice getting to spend so much time with you. But I wish we’d had more.”

Gerard smiles a little to himself. It feels so good knowing Frank genuinely enjoys his company and wants to see more of him. “Likewise. I’ll call you, yeah?” He says as he directs Frank to his driveway.

“I know you have my number, so you’d better.” Frank flashes Gerard a dazzling smile as he gets out of the car. “Hey,” Frank says before Gerard can shut the door, and Gerard ducks his head back in. “The invite to my birthday still stands. My place, on the thirty-first.”

“You’re celebrating your birthday on Halloween?” Gerard asks, his face scrunching up in confusion.

Frank laughs. “My birthday _is_ Halloween, dude.”

The front door opens and Mikey stands on the threshold, beckoning Gerard inside.

“I gotta go,” Gerard says. “I’ll call you. Promise.”

“I’m counting on it.” Frank smiles and winks at him as he shuts the door.

Gerard watches Frank pull out of the driveway and head down the street before he turns around.

“Uhh… so you stayed with Frank?” Mikey’s eyebrows are nearly in his hairline and he tries to catch Gerard’s eye, but Gerard is having none of it.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says as he brushes past Mikey into the house. He’s relieved to find that dinner took a little longer than expected to prepare, and everyone is only just sitting down at the table. He takes a seat between his grandmother and his father, and Mikey and their mom soon take their seats across from him.

“How was everybody’s day?” Elena asks brightly. She seems to be doing well, Gerard notices, as sometimes she doesn’t even have the energy to come down for dinner. But tonight, she’s perked up and ready to dig into her food, and it gives Gerard a small amount of peace.

“Just had a lazy Sunday,” Donna says, and then, “How about you, Gee? I haven’t seen you almost all weekend. What have you been up to?”

Gerard nearly chokes on his meatloaf. He clears his throat and says, “Uhh… not much. We had our first show last night.”

“Oh, my goodness! I forgot about your first show. How was it?” Elena turns to face Gerard with a huge, excited smile on her face.

“It was great, Gramma. It actually went really, really well.” Gerard smiles back and shares a look with Mikey.

“Yeah. Gee was awesome up there,” Mikey says.

Gerard feels his father place a hand on his shoulder and he turns the other way to face him. “I’m proud of you, son,” Don says.

Gerard isn’t sure what to say. His father isn’t the most vocal of people; he’s always been supportive, but it was more of a silent approval while he let Gerard’s mother do the talking. Gerard is touched, to say the least, but he doesn’t know how to put it into words. “Thanks, Dad,” he says and he tries to make it convey just how thankful he is.

Don directs his attention to Mikey. “You too, Mikes. Very proud.” If Gerard’s not mistaken, there’s a bit of a gleam in his father’s eye.

The table goes silent and they continue eating. And then Mikey catches Gerard’s eye and gives him a mischievous look. “So, Gee. What exactly _did_ you do after the show last night?”

Gerard glares back, swallows his bite, and sets down the fork in his hand. “Well, Mikey, I met up with a _friend_ at the show and spent the night at his house. We just, like, hung out.”

Mikey nods and turns his eyes back on his food. “Cool. Good for you.”

Thankfully, the rest of the family doesn’t seem to notice the meaning behind their exchange, and the rest of the meal passes without incident. As soon as the plates are clean and the leftovers put away, however, Mikey jumps Gerard on his way back down to the basement.

“Okay, Gee. Spill.” Mikey places his hands on Gerard’s shoulders and guides him down the stairs and into the basement.

“All right, all right! Get off me,” he says as the door closes behind him. Gerard tries to look anywhere but Mikey, and settles on a pair of dirty jeans hanging over the end of his bed. “I went home with Frank last night.”

“Well, duh, I know that much.”

Gerard sighs and cards a hand through his hair. “We sort of have… a thing. I guess.”

“A ‘ _thing’_? What does that mean? What kind of thing?” Mikey places his hands on his hips and looks disapprovingly at Gerard when he makes the mistake of meeting Mikey’s eye.

“We hooked up,” Gerard says, and then adds, “Twice,” under his breath.

“Yeah, I figured you had before with the whole ‘Uhh… we know each other’ thing. Gee, why didn’t you tell me you were fucking Frank? That’s the kinda thing I gotta know about what with the whole band dynamic and stuff.”

Gerard throws his hands in the air in frustration. “I didn’t know Frank was in Pencey until last night! We met months ago and I hadn’t seen him since. We got to talking after the show and we just kind of… clicked. Again.” Gerard looks Mikey in the eye. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Are you gonna see him again?”

Gerard looks down, unable to keep his confidence up anymore. “Probably.” _With any luck_ , he doesn’t say out loud.

“Then it _is_ a big deal, Gee.” Mikey sighs and walks forward to place a hand on Gerard’s shoulder. “Look, I’m happy for you, okay? If you like Frank and he likes you, that’s cool. And it’s not like you’re in the same band or anything. Just… be careful. Things could get messy.”

Gerard gives Mikey a small smile, remembering how he had thought the same thing the night before. “Yeah, I know. I promise I’ll be careful, Mikes. Don’t worry about me.”

“Cool. Have a good night, Gee.” Mikey leaves him alone in the basement, and Gerard kind of wishes he wouldn’t.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have good news and I have bad news. The bad news is that I've been really slacking on this story recently and chapter 9 is not coming together like I'd hoped. I still might be able to finish it by next weekend, but it's midterms right now and I can't promise it'll be ready. It will for sure be up by the following Saturday 11/11.
> 
> The good news is that the reason I've been slacking on this story is that I've been writing a special standalone fic for Halloween! That'll be up on the 31st, so make sure to be on the look out for it :)
> 
> Also, all bottle caps in this universe are twist off because I hate regular bottle caps. They can choke.

“I’m _not_ going with you,” Mikey says with his hands placed firmly on his hips.

“Why not?” Gerard whines. He’s digging through his dresser, desperate to find something to wear. “I _need_ you there, Mikes.”

“It’d be weird. He didn’t invite me. And he could have if he wanted to,” Mikey points out.

“I’m sure he just forgot. Anyway, you can be my plus one. I’ll text him,” Gerard says as he pulls out his phone.

“Gee,” Mikey says, laying a hand on Gerard’s shoulder so he looks up from the messages he and Frank have exchanged for the past week and a half, “you’re _his_ plus one.”

Gerard scrunches up his face in confusion. “No I’m not. It’s his party, I’m just a guest. I can bring someone if I want. And it’s not like you’re my other boyfriend or something.”

“Oh, so you and Frank are boyfriends now?”

Gerard tosses his head and lets out an exasperated sigh. “No! Just– you’re my brother, not my date.” Gerard looks up again with pleading eyes. “I _need_ you there, Mikey. Please.”

Mikey sighs. “Fine. I’ll go.” Gerard breaks out in a huge grin but Mikey points an accusing finger at his chest, “But _only_ so I can hand out copies of our demo. And you’re apologizing to Frank for bringing me _and_ for not getting him a gift.” Mikey pauses, and then quirks the side of his mouth up into an almost-smile and says, “You know, you’re kind of a crappy boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend! I don’t have to get him anything.” Gerard starts to worry that maybe he _should_ have gotten Frank a gift, and turns back to the dresser to distract so that he can at least look good for Frank, or try to. He starts digging through the drawers again, but is stops when Mikey presses a piece of soft fabric against his chest. He takes it and asks, “What’s this?”

“Shirt,” Mikey says simply and leaves the basement.

Gerard unfolds the black Misfits tee as a smile slowly spreads across his face.

~

They pull up to the apartment building around nine and make their way to Frank’s front door. Mikey’s toting a box of tapes, mostly ones that Gerard couldn’t find anyone to give to, and he shifts it from one arm to the other as he lifts a fist to knock. Before he can, though, the door swings open, and loud music washes over them.

“Hey, guys!” Frank says, greeting them with a huge grin. “Glad you could make it.” He looks down at the box in Mikey’s hands. “Did you bring tapes? I’ve been telling everyone about My Chem! I bet a ton of people’ll be interested in a copy.”

“Thanks, dude. That’s awesome,” Mikey says as he steps past Frank, throwing a “Happy birthday!” over his shoulder.

Gerard looks at his feet. “Sorry for bringing him last minute. I just–” He can’t find the words to finish that thought without embarrassing himself, but Frank doesn’t seem to need him to.

“Hey, it’s all good. Mikey’s a cool dude and I’m happy he’s here.”

Gerard looks up at him again and apologizes once more. “And sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

Frank laughs. “Don’t worry. It’s, uhh, it’s not really that kinda party. Hey, cool shirt.”

Frank steps out of the way and lets Gerard pass by him. Gerard has no idea how they managed to cram so many people into Frank’s tiny living room, and he worries for a moment about fire codes and possibly getting trampled. There are people packed to the walls and a booming stereo in the corner that makes the room feel even smaller with the way people have to shout to be heard.

Gerard turns around to say something to Frank, but finds he’s nowhere in sight. He searches the room for a familiar face for a few moments, but sees no one, and his heartrate kicks up a notch. _Calm down, don’t fucking panic. It’s just a party._ But that’s exactly the problem, parties are where Gerard has always felt the least comfortable. He takes another step inside and is nearly swallowed up by the large group of people dancing in the living room. Thinking better of getting involved, he decides to try to find some peace and quiet in the kitchen, which has often been his refuge at parties in his past.

He wades through the people and pizza boxes and empty bottles until he reaches the small kitchen and finds Frank alone, standing in front of the fridge.

“Hey,” Frank says, shutting the fridge door and holding a bottle of beer out for him. “Thought I’d get you one.”

“Thanks,” Gerard says and accepts the bottle, twisting off the cap as he does. He takes a long swig, happy to have something that will help take his mind off the party and any and all social interaction that may happen while he’s here.

“So.” Frank takes a step towards him. “You gonna wish me happy birthday?”

Gerard swallows hard and holds Frank’s gaze. If he’s not mistaken, Frank’s eyes are just a little bit darker. “Uhh, sure. Happy birthday.”

Frank takes another step. “Thanks… You know, I said it was fine that you didn’t get me anything but… I kinda wish I’d gotten a present from you.” He takes another step and now his toes are touching Gerard’s.

Gerard has backed up against the counter and he’s trying not to look nervous but he knows he’s failing marvelously. He takes another drink, hoping it’ll make him a little less jittery, and sets the bottle down on the counter before looking back at Frank. “Sorry. I could get you something as a belated present,” he says, feigning innocence.

“I think there’s something you could give me right now.” Frank places a warm hand on Gerard’s hip.

Gerard closes his eyes to the touch, just for a moment, but when he opens them Frank has moved in and his mouth is ghosting over Gerard’s neck. “What’s that?” Gerard asks, his voice cracking a little.

“A dance.” Frank presses a chaste kiss to Gerard’s throat just above the neckline of his shirt and Gerard shivers.

“Just a dance?” He can’t really believe that’s all Frank wants. He was worried Frank would want to fuck in the bathroom or something, and he would have to say yes because, well, he can’t really say no to Frank.

Frank pushes up and says in Gerard’s ear, “Just a dance.” He wraps a hand around Gerard’s wrist and drags him back to the living room.

They join the throng of people and start moving to the music that Gerard can’t even hear properly with the blood rushing in his ears. Frank is instantly pressed up against him, grinding their bodies together shamelessly and throwing his head back with his arms wrapped around Gerard’s neck. Gerard places his hands on Frank’s hips and starts to give in, just a little. He’s still incredibly uncomfortable with the setting, with the fact that Frank _know_ s these people, that they might be the sort of friends Frank would want to introduce to Gerard someday.

Gerard presses his mouth to Frank’s ear and says, “Aren’t your bandmates here?”

“Yeah?” Frank says, sounding confused, as if it doesn’t matter one bit.

“Won’t they care that we’re like… like this?” He doesn’t know how to put into words their relationship, so he chooses to be as vague as possible.

“Nah, they don’t care. It’s not like we’re in the same band, right?”

Frank laughs and Gerard manages a small smile, but he’s drawn back to Mikey saying the same thing, and how it hadn’t assured him one bit. He tries to lose himself in the music and in Frank, throwing himself into their movements and grinding against the other man with all he’s got. Frank responds avidly and presses into Gerard just as hard, breathing on his neck and pressing kisses there every once in a while.

It’s almost too much. Gerard’s cock is growing hard in his pants and he can feel Frank’s doing the same. Frank’s hands slide over his shoulders and grip him tightly as he kneads Frank’s hips and pulls him closer still. There are probably close to fifty people in Frank’s small apartment, but with the way they’re so focused on each other, it feels like just the two of them.

Frank brushes his lips over Gerard’s ear. “You should stay the night,” he says, his voice gravelly.

“Yeah.” Gerard nearly chokes but he gets the word out. He thinks he might need a few more drinks before he can commit to staying the night with Frank, which he knows will mean staying through the rest of the party and having a pretty awkward conversation with his brother about why he’s not going home.

Suddenly, Frank turns in Gerard’s arms so he can push his ass to Gerard’s hard dick. He presses himself flush against Gerard’s chest and leans his head back, giving Gerard access to his neck. Gerard happily takes advantage, attaching his mouth to Frank’s throat as he winds his arms around Frank’s waist.

“You get me so fuckin’ hot, Frankie,” Gerard says between kisses. He isn’t sure where the nickname comes from, but he can’t stop it from slipping out, even if he wanted to.

Frank lets out a small moan and closes his eyes as Gerard bites down on his neck. “ _Shit_ , Gee. Fuck, I wish all these people were gone. A one-on-one party with you would be the best birthday I could ask for.” He laughs a little and grinds back harder on Gerard’s cock through two layers of denim.

“Mmm, sounds nice.”

“Frank!” someone yells from across the room as the music pauses.

Gerard and Frank halt their movements completely and turn to stare at the person who’d called Frank’s name.

“What?” Frank’s voice gives away some of the annoyance he’s clearly feeling from having been interrupted.

“Time to sing happy birthday, motherfucker!”

“Tim, you prick. Don’t you fucking dare!”

But the guy – Tim – doesn’t let up. “Happy birthday to you!” he sings, waving his arms to encourage others to join in.

Frank stares around the room in disbelief as everyone breaks into song. He turns to gape at Gerard with a look of betrayal when he hears Gerard singing behind him. Gerard gives Frank a big, mocking smile and continues belting out the tune at the top of his lungs.

The song finishes, and Frank slaps a palm over his face. “You’re all assholes!” he yells, but he doesn’t really mean it. Gerard can see the way his shoulders are shaking, trying to contain his laugher.

Gerard’s laughing too, and he throws an arm around Frank, giving him a side hug and pulling him off to the side so they’re out of the way of the mass of people, who are starting to move again now that the music has resumed. “Happy twentieth,” he says and presses a kiss to Frank’s temple.

Frank slides his arm around Gerard’s waist and gives him a nod. “Big year.”

“Yeah. Double decades.”

Frank gives him a look. “You’re a dork,” he says and rests his head on Gerard’s shoulder.

It feels so natural, being like this with Frank. Gerard knows they haven’t discussed their relationship or exactly what it means yet, they hardly _know_ each other for fuck’s sake, but for some reason this feels right. For once, he couldn’t care less what anyone else thinks.

That is, until he sees three guys approaching them, all of them tall, heavily tattooed, and throwing skeptical looks at Gerard.

“Hey, what’s up, guys?” Frank asks, seemingly oblivious to their hostility. “Oh, this is Gerard. Gerard this is Mac, Terry, and Kevin.”

“Hey,” Gerard says, raising a hand to waive awkwardly. They nod at him, but don’t seem to have much interest in conversation.

“Cool. So, Frank,” Terry says. “We were thinking…”

“You don’t seem to be fucked up enough,” Kevin finishes.

“Yeah! Like, dude, it’s _your_ party,” says Terry.

“No, no, it’s cool. I’m fine,” Frank assures them.

“Seriously. We should get some shots in you,” Mac interjects, completely ignoring Frank’s protests.

The three of them drag Frank off, and Frank throws an apologetic look over his shoulder which Gerard returns with a half-hearted waive. He shouldn’t expect Frank to choose him over his friends, but it still stings.

“Here,” Mikey says as he presses a cold beer to Gerard’s chest.

Gerard twists off the cap and takes a sip. “Thanks.”

Mikey nods towards Frank and his friends receding into the kitchen. “I saw that. I’m sorry, dude.”

Gerard shakes his head and takes another drink. “’S not a big deal. He can do what he wants. It’s his birthday.”

Mikey turns to look at Gerard. “Birthday or no birthday, that was a dick move by his friends. I didn’t think anyone would be weird about you two.”

Gerard shrugs. “Whatever.” Instead of saying more, he takes a long drink from his beer. He polishes off the bottle and sets it down on the dirty coffee table that had been pushed against the wall to make room for the dancing crowd.

Mikey finishes his own beer and then says, “I’ll get us two more,” before disappearing into the kitchen.

He returns a few minutes later with two red solo cups and an entire bottle of Smirnoff, which Gerard eyes suspiciously. “How’d you score that?”

“Snuck it out without anyone noticing. Do _not_ go in there,” Mikey says. He pours them each a drink and places the bottle on the coffee table next to Gerard’s abandoned beer bottle. “If you do, you’ll be glad you drank this.”

Gerard isn’t sure what could possibly be going on in the kitchen, but he takes the cup and drinks its contents quickly. It burns in the back of his throat and hits his stomach hard, but when his cup is empty he only misses the feeling. He pours himself another drink, which he sips slowly so that Mikey will stop giving him concerned looks.

“Did you pass out all the tapes?” Gerard asks.

Mikey nods. “Yeah. Frank was right, people were really excited to get their hands on them.”

“That’s fucking awesome.” He means it. The whole thing is still kind of blowing his mind. He lifts the cup to his lips.

“Frank said he could maybe get us in contact with someone from his record label.”

Gerard nearly spits out his drink. “What?”

Mikey shrugs and looks down at his cup. “He said the label Pencey’s on is pretty chill, and if we contact them they might be into taking us on.”

Gerard stares at Mikey with his mouth open. “A _record deal?_ ”

“Yeah, if they like us.”

_I need a drink_ , Gerard thinks. He looks down at the cup in his hand, _Right_ , and polishes it off in one gulp. He quickly pours himself another, filling it up higher than he should. When he turns back around, someone is talking to Mikey, asking about the demos and if there are any more copies.

“Uhh, I think there might be some more in the car. We can go look.” Mikey turns to Gerard. “You okay, Gee?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” Gerard isn’t sure how he’ll stop himself from drowning without Mikey to help keep him afloat, but he doesn’t want to make his brother stay with him. He watches Mikey and the stranger walk through the front door, and sighs when he finds himself all alone in the crowd.

~

Twenty minutes later, Mikey still isn’t back. Gerard had peeked out the window a little while ago, saw Mikey and the guy sharing a smoke in the car, most likely while listening to their demo, and decided not to bother him. He’d settled for trying to polish off the rest of the Smirnoff by himself, which was a challenge he was all too willing to accept.

Now, sitting on one of the cracked and stained couches against the wall and clutching the vodka bottle by the neck, Gerard is growing antsy. Frank has been gone for a while, and every so often a loud crash and a chorus of laughter radiates out from the kitchen. Mikey told Gerard not to go in there, but he feels like he _has_ to know.

He takes another swig from the bottle, feels the liquid pour down his throat, the burn completely gone now, and sets it down on the floor out of the way where it hopefully won’t get kicked over but almost certainly will. He stands up, feeling somewhat unsure of his footing as the room spins a little, and stumbles towards the kitchen. His hand lands heavily on the dividing wall between the living room and the kitchen, and as he crosses the threshold the raucous laughter grows to almost deafening levels in the small space.

Gerard stands stock still as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. One of the guys who had dragged Frank away – Gerard is pretty sure it’s Kevin – is lying on the tiny, cluttered kitchen table, knocking over cups and bottles as he pushes up his t-shirt. Frank, who looks like he’s having the fucking time of his life, holds a whiskey bottle over the other man and pours a shot into his belly button, sloshing some of the liquid over Kevin’s skin as he does.

Frank sets down the bottle and looks Kevin in the eye. No one else in the room has noticed Gerard, and they all seem fixed intently on what’s happening in front of them. Gerard watches as Frank runs his tongue along his friend’s body, lapping up the whiskey he spilled. Frank giggles when he sees the effect he’s having on Kevin, who’s looking at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Frank leans over, keeping direct, heated eye contact with the man below him, and drinks the body shot.

“ _Fuck_ yeah!” he says as he pulls back. “Now it’s a fuckin’ party.”

Gerard wills his feet to work, to take him out of the kitchen, out the door and down to the street so he can drive home and forget what he just saw. He wills his stomach to stop churning, stop threatening to bring up everything he’s drank in the past few hours. He wills his blood to stop boiling, his skin to stop itching, his brain to stop skipping from thought to thought.

He never had a claim on Frank. Frank was never his, not exclusively. He knows this. But the words “I think we could really have something” are playing over and over in his head, and the sight of Frank putting his mouth on someone else makes Gerard die just a little bit.

He has to get out of the kitchen. He _has_ to get out of the kitchen, before he’s caught or throws up or faints, or all of the above. He turns back towards the living room without looking and runs right into someone’s chest.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, not looking up. He tries to move past, but a warm hand grips his bicep and his eyes meet those of the stranger’s.

“Hey, you okay? You’re Gerard, right?” His voice is gentle, soothing. His soft brown hair is falling into his face and his eyes are warm and inviting.

Gerard decides that the stranger’s face is kind, and that he could use someone like that at the moment. So, where he would usually say “I’m fine” and get out as soon as possible, Gerard instead says, “No. And yeah, I’m Gerard.”

The stranger drops his arm. “Come on, let’s find somewhere to sit and talk.”

Gerard follows him through the crowded living room and out the front door. The stranger sits down on the carpeted hallway floor outside the door, and Gerard joins him, still feeling shaky.

“You smoke?” the stranger asks.

“Yeah.”

The other man lifts his hips and pulls a battered pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He hands one to Gerard before lighting his own and then offering the lighter as well.

Gerard accepts the lighter and holds his cigarette in his mouth as he lights it. He takes a long drag, breathes in deep, lets it out, and only then does he hand back the lighter and say, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m Shaun, by the way. Frank’s bandmate.”

“Oh, cool,” Gerard says. He’d wondered how the guy knew his name, but everyone in Pencey must know who he is by now. The thought scares him a little. He’s used to knowing lots of people who have no fucking clue who he is, not the other way.

“Do you want to talk about what happened in the kitchen?” Shaun is looking at him uncertainly. “You don’t have to,” he adds.

Gerard looks away, takes another drag, watches the smoke curl in front of his face as he lets it out. “I’m a fucking idiot is all.”

“You and Frank…?”

Gerard can feel Shaun’s eyes on him still. Usually, other people watching him makes his skin crawl, but he can’t help but feel appreciative of Shaun’s seemingly genuine concern. “Sort of. I dunno. I just thought… I don’t know what I thought.” Gerard looks down at his feet, wills the tears in his eyes to disappear.

“He doesn’t mean to hurt you. He’s just a reckless little shit and he doesn’t consider the consequences of his actions, like, ever. Especially when alcohol’s involved.”

Gerard nods. A tear slips down his nose and splatters on his worn red Converse. “God, I’m so stupid. He doesn’t owe me anything.”

“Hey,” Shaun says and places a hand on Gerard’s shoulder, “you’re not stupid.” He sighs and lets his hand fall heavily onto the floor between them. “You should talk to him… I could talk to him if you wanted.”

Gerard looks at Shaun and, as politely as he can, asks, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Shaun’s eyebrows knit together. “Because you need it. And because Frank needs to get his act together.”

“Thanks. I don’t really know how to do this. Dating, I mean. Or whatever it is Frank and I are doing.”

Shaun laughs, deep and sincere. “Neither does he. Hey, you should come by our practice space some time,” Shaun says, slapping Gerard lightly on the thigh. “Hang out with us. Maybe jam around a bit.”

Despite himself, he smiles. “That sounds cool.”

Shaun leaves him with a kind smile and a final wish of good luck. As Shaun heads back inside, Gerard sees Mikey reach the top of the stairs.

“Oh, hey,” Mikey says when his eyes land on Gerard. He looks tired, like he only came back up here for Gerard’s sake.

“Hey. Wanna go home?” Gerard asks.

Mikey’s expression immediately turns to one of concern. “You’re not staying the night?”

Gerard knows Mikey didn’t hear his conversation with Frank earlier, but he guesses that after their public display of affection, that must be a pretty fair assumption to make. “Nah. Let’s get out of here.”

Mikey gives him a look, but doesn’t press him. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, it's the same Kevin ;)


	9. Chapter 9

Gerard wakes to his phone vibrating obnoxiously on the bedside table. He rolls over and clumsily reaches for it, nearly knocking it onto the floor in the process. In his groggy state, he skips checking the caller ID and answers right away.

“Hullo?” he says, his eyelids drooping down again.

“Hey.”

Gerard’s eyes snap open. “Frank.”

“Yeah.” Frank doesn’t sound mad. Maybe a little disappointed, or confused, but not mad. “What happened to you last night? I texted you, like, fifty times or something.”

“Oh.” He had crashed almost immediately after getting into bed, which he was all too happy to do so he could forget about the massively embarrassing night he’d had. “Um. I left early.”

Frank is silent for a beat, and then, “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just…” Gerard sighs, rubs his eyes in frustration. “You were having a good time without me. Didn’t think you’d still want me around.”

“Gerard, I’m–” The disappointment in Frank’s voice turns to full-on sadness, and Gerard can’t bear to listen to that right now.

“Really, Frank. Don’t sweat it. I hope you had a good birthday.” He knows it’s the wrong thing to do, but he hangs up.

He sighs again and then decides to go through the messages he’d received from Frank last night. Most of them say something along the lines of “Where are you?” with an increasing number of typos as the hour got later. There aren’t fifty, but there’s a good amount, which Gerard is a little surprised to see. He starts to feel guilty, thinking that maybe Frank really had wanted him to stay.

But he couldn’t have. Not with the way he forgot about Gerard, forgot about what he’d said and what passed between them that morning in Frank’s kitchen. Not with the way he did _that_ to another guy on the same fucking table.

Gerard’s phone is telling him it’s almost two in the afternoon, so even though the only thing he wants to do is roll over and fall back asleep, he instead drags himself out of bed. His hangover is hitting him like a freight train, and as he stumbles to the bathroom the contents of his stomach threatened to come back up. He makes it to the toilet in time to hang his head over the seat and vomit up almost nothing, but he feels better when he pulls back, if only marginally.

He stands up, flushes to toilet, turns around and flips on the sink. He rinses his mouth out and then cups some water in his hands, washes his face and tries to drag himself out of his relentless hangover. He raises his head and instantly regrets it. The mirror is never forgiving. To be fair, he probably looks more like death than usual, but it’s not a pretty sight and Gerard thinks maybe no one else should be subjected to seeing it, that he should hide himself away in the basement until tomorrow.

Or maybe longer. Maybe he should stay down here forever, never leaving his sanctuary where the outside world can’t touch him, where nothing is expected of him.

But as he returns to his bedroom, he remembers that things _are_ expected of him, even here. Pieces of paper with half-finished songs are strewn about the room, the guitar in the corner is just aching to be played, he hasn’t used his voice to sing in days and it’s starting to feel wrong when he goes more than twenty-four hours without singing _something_. He hasn’t decided whether or not that’s a good thing.

More than anything, he’s reminded that he’s fucking terrified. This is exactly what he was afraid of: not having the energy to be creative when other people are counting on him. He’s experienced it before, in art school when he missed deadlines and failed assignments, or at work when he wasn’t invested enough in what the big companies wanted from him to throw himself into it and actually finish anything.

But this matters to Gerard. He _wants_ to write music and he really does want to perform it, no matter how much getting up on stage frightens him. He’s always wanted to do this. And now that he can, he’s scared shitless that he won’t be able to follow through, that he’ll start to resent his music just like he resented school or work.

He picks up a piece of paper off the corner of his dresser and finds a few chords scribbled next to some lyrics. “But this time, I mean it. I’ll let you know just how much you mean to me…” they read. He makes a thoughtful noise, and then smiles a little. It doesn’t seem to be an accident that this was the unfinished song he just happened to select from the many scattered throughout the room.

He’s never had the energy or resolve to work through a hangover this brutal before, but he sits on the edge of his bed and picks up a pencil from his bedside table, and begins to write.

Because this time, he really does mean it.

~

“You can’t ignore him forever, you know,” Mikey says over his mug of coffee.

Gerard sighs and sets his own mug down on the table in front of them. “Yeah, I know.” He hasn’t talked to Frank since the phone call about a week ago, ignoring the texts and calls that have come through. He hasn’t gotten anything in the past two days. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to Frank. He does. He really fucking does, and he wishes things could go back to the way they were before the party, when talking to Frank was easy. But it’s not so easy anymore. And he knows that they have to talk eventually, he knows that. But he just can’t think of anything to say. Not yet, anyway. “I’ll call him.”

Mikey nods. Ray and Matt join them at the table then, each clutching a coffee cup of their own.

“Okay, so,” Matt says, “I think we really gotta kick it into high gear for the next show. Because, like, we do _not_ have enough songs yet.”

“I have some new stuff. We can work on it next practice,” Gerard offers. He does have new stuff. A lot of it, actually. He’s barely left the house since he got home from Frank’s party, and he spent most of that time working on their music, finishing three songs as best he can without the any of his bandmates and starting two more. He’s proud of himself, and he hopes the rest of them will be, too, when he brings five new songs to their next meeting.

“Cool,” Ray says, and then lets out a short laugh, almost like he couldn’t keep it in even if he wanted to. “I’m so fucking excited about this show, guys.”

There’s a chorus of “yeah”s and nodding from the rest of them. “We’ve really gotta thank Frank for getting us this gig. Will he be there?” Matt asks.

Mikey doesn’t look at Gerard when he says, “Yeah, he’s doing merch for us again.”

Gerard’s chest constricts and his heartrate picks up. He didn’t think Frank would want to be so involved with them anymore what with Gerard leaving his party early and refusing to talk to him. He’s also instantly nervous because he knows he should smooth things over in the next week and a half before the show, so that things aren’t awkward when they’re around the band. He’d been hoping to put off talking to Frank just for a little bit longer than that.

He doesn’t realize he’s completely zoned out until Mikey elbows him in the ribs and says, “Gee wanted to show you guys some new ideas for our merch,” which jolts him back to the present.

“Oh, right, yeah.” He quickly digs his sketchbook out of his bag, flipping to the relevant pages. “I started knocking around some new t-shirt designs.” He shows them a few drawings: a bloodied woman with her hands sewn together in front of her chest as if she were forced to pray, the profile of a man hanging upside down from a hook, and one that simply says, ‘Thank You For The Venom.’

“Holy shit,” Ray says. “These are awesome, dude.”

“I really love the one with the guy,” Mikey says, pointing to the second design.

Gerard knows this, Mikey mentioned it when Gerard showed him the designs earlier, but Mikey’s not saying it for Gerard’s benefit; he wants to know what the other guys think.

Matt doesn’t disappoint. “Yeah, I think that one’s really fucking cool. It’s kinda, like, a visual for what all our songs sound like.”

“Yeah,” Ray agrees. “Like, whoever that dude is, he ties it all together. Maybe it could work for an album cover, or something.”

“Hell yeah,” Mikey says. “Oh, speaking of which, Frank got me in contact with Pencey’s label. They’re called Eyeball Records and they’re really cool and laid-back. Anyway, you know the guy from Thursday, Geoff?” Everyone nods at Mikey. “He’s a producer for Eyeball. I talked to him and he said Frank already played him our demo. He wants to meet with us to talk about recording.”

For a moment, no one says anything. But it’s not the ecstatic silence like when Frank told them they had a headlining gig, it’s more an apprehensive and somewhat tense moment where no one knows what to say.

Finally, Matt says, “Are we ready for that?”

They all cast glances at each other over the table.

“I mean… maybe we don’t have to decide that just yet,” Mikey says uneasily. “I told him I had to talk to you guys first, so we don’t _have_ to meet with him. Maybe we should invite him to the show?”

“That’s a good idea, Mikes,” Ray says. “Invite him, and then he can tell us what he thinks. That way at least we won’t be disappointed if we get all the way into a studio just to get thrown out for not being ready,” he says, laughing a little. “Plus, we’ve come a long way since the demo. Hopefully we can show him that.”

Mikey gives Ray a small smile. “Okay. I’ll reach out to him.”

They sit in silence for a while, all of them thinking about what this could mean for them, the places they could go. Maybe. Hopefully. None of them can know for sure. Gerard’s got no fucking clue what direction this could push them in, but he does know that they have to follow this path and see it through.

“Hey,” Matt finally says as he turns to Mikey, “do you know when Pencey’s album is coming out?”

“Yeah, uhh… Like, a couple weeks, I think? Late November, I’m pretty sure. Frank already said we’re all invited to the release party.”

“Sweet,” Matt says, and leaves the table to get a refill of his coffee.

Gerard is still stuck in stunned silence. It seems like everything is coming at once: their second show ( _a fucking_ headliner _for Christ’s sake),_ possibly signing with a record label, and now the release of Frank’s band’s album and _another_ party. He’s not ready for all of this. He can’t handle it.

He's not aware of how fast he’s breathing until Mikey lays a hand on his bicep and looks at him with concern, Ray’s expression similar as he stares at Gerard from across the table. “You okay?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s just… a lot. A fucking lot all at once.”

“I get that. Don’t worry about it, it’ll all work out. Hopefully some of it will actually be kind of fun,” Rays says and gives Gerard a comforting grin which he tries his best to reciprocate.

Matt returns to the table and launches right back into band business. “Okay, so, I think I might have a contact who could get us some more gigs–”

“Oh my God!” Gerard exclaims dramatically and hides his face in his palms.

Through the cracks in his fingers, he can see Matt looking between him and Mikey. “He okay?” he asks.

Mikey pats Gerard’s arm. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Matt continues, still giving Gerard a confused look. “I mean, it might not be for a while, but the dude works at this small club and they book a lot of bands who’re just starting out. So, I asked him if he thinks he could get us in and he said yeah, maybe.”

“Sweet, dude,” Ray says.

“Yeah, totally,” Mikey agrees.

Gerard says nothing, but he does manage to take his hands away from his face and give Matt a half-smile.

“Is there any other band stuff we should talk about?” Ray asks. He looks between his three bandmates, none of whom come up with anything. “Okay. It was good to see you guys, but I’ve got work in an hour and my car’s in the shop so… I gotta go. I’ll see you all Saturday.”

Ray rises from the table, but stops when Mikey asks, “You want a ride?”

“Into the City? Yeah, sure. That’d be awesome.” Ray smiles wide.

Mikey smiles back, albeit not quite as big, but it’s still a genuine smile. Not everyone gets those from Mikey.

Mikey and Ray both get up then, and Gerard realizes, “Wait, it’s  _my_ fucking car.” He’s not really mad that Mikey’s using it without asking, it’s more the principle of it. And it also means he has to find his own way home.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Matt says. “I can give you a lift.”

Gerard nods. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Cool,” Mikey says. “See you later.”

 The bell over the door chimes as Ray and Mikey leave the café. Matt and Gerard watch them go, and neither of them quite know what to do with themselves once they’re alone. It’s not that they aren’t friends, they are. But Gerard is pretty sure Matt can sense that Gerard doesn’t share a lot of the excitement the rest of them have. It makes conversations about the band uncomfortable, and at the moment it seems that neither of them can think of anything else to talk about.

“You wanna go?” Matt asks, rushed out and nervous.

“Yeah.”

~

“Fuck, we really need a screamer.” They’re in his basement again, having their last practice before the show tomorrow night. They’ve been here for what feels like hours, but it’s really only been about forty minutes and Gerard can’t believe how slow the clock seems to be moving, and how little they’ve gotten done. The buzz that came with playing new songs has long worn off, and now they’re just tired and frustrated and Gerard isn’t doing anything to make it better. He knows that. But he can’t get over the imperfections in the way it sounds, the way he’s singing. “It just doesn’t _sound_ right when I do it. And I think it could be really good if I sang and someone screamed on top of it.” He looks around at his bandmates. All of them stare blankly back, knowing that what Gerard is asking for is not something that exists in the room.

Ray sighs. “I think we could really use a second guitarist, too. I’ve written a lot of stuff that I’m not gonna get to play because we gotta keep the rhythm part in there… Maybe we should shop around for someone who can do both?”

Mikey and Matt nod. “I’ll keep my ears tuned for anyone who might work,” Mikey says.

Gerard is still uneasy about bringing anyone else into their little machine, but the need for a fifth member is beginning to crowd out his anxieties. “Thanks, Mikes,” he says, and then, “Okay, let me try this part _again_ ,” and launches back into the chorus of their newest song.

They work for another two hours, and the new songs actually come together pretty well, to Gerard’s surprise. He’s still not completely satisfied with how they sound, but he figures it’s possible he never will be.

The guys clear out of the basement pretty quickly. Even though the practice session turned out to be productive, it was still frustrating and none of them quite feel like hanging out right now. Plus, they’ll be seeing each other in less than twenty-four hours anyway.

Gerard, now alone in the empty basement, glares at his cell phone where it rests on his dresser. It’s mocking him, he can tell. He sighs exasperatedly and picks up the phone, flipping it open and finding Frank’s contact information. His thumb hovers over the call button. Suddenly, his lungs stop working and he immediately flips the phone closed and slams it back on the dresser, eyeing it suspiciously.

 _Come on, you fucking pussy. It’s just a phone call. You have to do it at some point_. Some point soon, too, as he knows he’ll have to face Frank at the show tomorrow where he’ll be happily doing merch for them. Or maybe not so happily after the way Gerard has treated him.

He sighs again, reaches for the phone, grips it intently. He flips it open and once again finds Frank’s contact information, pressing the call button before he can stop himself. Deep breath. He brings the phone to his ear.

“Hello? Gerard?” Frank says, sounding confused and, if Gerard’s not mistaken, hopeful.

“Yeah, it’s me.” There’s an awkward pause, and Gerard clears his throat. “Um. I figured I should, like, talk to you before the show tomorrow. So things aren’t weird.” _Things are_ already _weird, you awkward piece of shit!_ he chastises himself.

“Oh. Okay.” Frank’s voice sounds discernably flatter, and it makes Gerard’s heart ache.

“Yeah. I just…” _You just_ what _? Don’t want to see him anymore? Don’t want to get your hopes up? What?_ “I wanted to, uh, apologize for ignoring you. That was shitty of me. And say that I think maybe we–” His voice catches in his throat, as if his body won’t allow him to finish that sentence.

“What are you trying to say, Gee?”

 _Fuck, that nickname_. Gerard scrubs a hand over his face and sighs in frustration. “I just– I think– Ugh. We’re not– This isn’t–”

“You think this isn’t working out?” Frank asks, and Gerard hopes his silence is enough to communicate that _Yes, that is what I think_ , _but I wish I didn’t._ Frank scoffs. “Fine. Okay. We don’t have to see each other anymore if you don’t want to. Except, like, for band stuff.”

“Frank, I’m so–”

“Really, Gerard.” Frank sounds like he’s speaking through gritted teeth. “Don’t sweat it,” he says, and the line goes dead.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this early because I'll be out of town tomorrow. Enjoy!  
> Btw... there's an au idea that's been knocking around in my head for a while that I started doing research for. I won't even be able to start writing it for a while but guys I am so excited oh my god. I really hope it works out. But rest assured I will be finishing this fic first, and it still has quite a ways to go!
> 
> Warnings: mentions of drug use.

Gerard is drunk. Beyond drunk, really. And at this point he kind of wishes he wasn’t but it’s too late for that. He can’t tell whether the churning in his stomach is from the nerves or the drink or both, and every few seconds he darts his eyes over to the bathroom door, trying to gauge whether or not he should make a break for it.

Mikey, at least, seems to understand his need to get completely and utterly fucked up just to be able to set foot in the same building as Frank. He didn’t even blink when Gerard worked his way through nearly an entire bottle of Jack by himself, or when he bent of the mirror a few kids in the living room were huddled around, just for good measure, just to make sure the nerves didn’t get to him. He’s failed, it seems, as even with his head swelling, the coke trying to give him the feeling that he’s on top of the world, Gerard can’t get his fingers to stop shaking as he hands gear to his bandmates.

Matt doesn’t seem too concerned, but Ray keeps giving him sidelong glances that make him even more anxious, and before he can make a decision, he’s rushing into the bathroom and throwing his head over the lip of the toilet. He makes it in time, thank God. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he upchucked all over his carefully-selected and completely awesome Motorhead t-shirt.

He hears the door swing open behind him, but he doesn’t have the energy or interest to look up and see who’s walked in on him in this compromising state.

“Oh shit,” says the intruder. “Fuck, lemme help.”

Gerard is still spewing into the toilet, though not much is coming up at this point, when he feels a gentle hand pull his hair back. A palm lands on his lower back and begins making slow, soothing circles as his heaves die out. Gerard sits back, breathing hard, and the hand drops from his hair as he looks up at the stranger. Who, it turns out, is not a stranger at all.

“Frank,” Gerard says dumbly. _Fuck_ , he thinks. _Fucking fuck_.

Frank smiles sheepishly. He still hasn’t removed his hand from Gerard’s lower back, and it almost seems as if he’s forgotten all about it. “Hey.”

Gerard can’t do anything but gape at him. He doesn’t understand why Frank would be this nice to him, let alone this intimate. At the back of his mind, he thinks he should shake off Frank’s hand, but he pushes the thought away and instead lets the comforting heat seep through the back of his shirt.

“Thanks,” he says.

“No problem. You gonna be okay?” Frank moves his other hand to Gerard’s shoulder, and digs into the stiff muscles with his fingertips.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He’s probably he’s lying, but he can’t be sure. His head is foggy and he can’t feel his legs now that he’s been sitting on them for a good while, and suddenly he remembers he has to get up on a fucking _stage_ somehow. “Shit. The show,” he says.

“Right,” Frank agrees just as Mikey and Ray burst into the bathroom. Frank quickly snatches back both his hands and looks a little guilty. Gerard doesn’t know if it’s because of what he was doing or that he got caught, but either way it doesn’t feel good to see Frank ashamed to touch him.

“ _Christ_ , Gee,” Mikey says, exasperated. “Come on, we gotta go.” He and Ray move to help Gerard up, and Frank stands out of the way as Gerard clumsily makes his way to his feet.

Gerard huffs out a breath. “Okay. Ready,” he says, not feeling anywhere near it. “Let’s do this.”

~

The show is shit. Like, actual, literal shit. And it’s not just Gerard’s fault, though he is responsible for a good chunk of it. Matt seems to be the only one on his game, the rest of them constantly falling out of time with him and fucking up their parts. Gerard sings a truly incredible amount of incorrect lyrics and at one point almost falls off the crappy raised platform they’re using as a make-shift stage. He nearly dies of embarrassment when he sees Frank watching from the crowd, standing next to tall, skinny guy and talking into his ear every few minutes. He knows Frank probably wouldn’t bad mouth them, but all he hears in his head is a constant stream of scathing critiques in Frank’s voice.

Somehow, they finish the show, but they know the night is not over and it will probably only get worse from here. As they’re putting their gear away, Mikey reminds them all, “We’re supposed to meet with Geoff from Eyeball now. See what he thought of the show.” He doesn’t say it with much optimism, and Gerard knows they’re all thinking they’re about to get shot down before they’ve even been given a fair try.

Most of the kids have already cleared out, and the lights have come up to reveal a dismal-looking basement most likely decorated by a grandma some twenty years ago. As they make their way across the room to where Frank is standing with the tall guy, who Gerard guesses must be Geoff, he wonders about what he’ll do if they only get bad news. He thinks, maybe, that would be it for him. It was fun while it lasted, but no one really cares. Sure, the kids in the crowd seem into it, but most of them are probably high and drunk off their asses, not really able to understand what they’re hearing. Not like Frank and Geoff can. Gerard doesn’t think he could keep going if his dreams are dashed by people whose opinions he actually cares about.

“Hey, guys!” Geoff greets them enthusiastically. He juts out a hand and introduces himself – though he must know that the rest of them already know his name and title and have been obsessing about it for who knows how long – and shakes each of their hands as they give their own names.

The four of them wait with bated breath, an uneasy silence falling over them. It seems Geoff is waiting for something, too, and it’s only when Frank knocks him with his shoulder and says, “Dude, tell them what you thought,” that he kicks into gear as if he forgot what they’re all here for until now.

“Right! So, guys. My Chemical Romance, yeah? Sick name,” Geoff says, and Gerard is surprised things are off to such a good start, but he doesn’t get his hopes up just yet. “I’ll be honest,” _here it comes_ , Gerard thinks, “it needs work. But I think you’ve really _got_ something. And I wanna hear more.”

Gerard lets out a long breath. “Holy shit,” he says without meaning to.

Mikey laughs beside him. “Yeah. Sorry to be crude, but, like, _holy shit_.”

Geoff is looking between them, confused. Matt tells him, “We thought you’d turn us down!” and his brows shoot up to his hairline. “Really?” Geoff asks. “After Frank talking my ear off about you guys for _weeks_? I couldn’t.” He smiles and looks at Frank beside him, who’s looking embarrassed and avoiding Gerard’s gaze. “Not that it was all Frank’s doing. You guys are good. I dig your sound.”

There’s a beat of silence before Geoff asks, “How would you guys feel about trying things out in a studio?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Gerard see’s Ray’s afro bob around. “We feel good about it,” Ray says emphatically.

“Hell yeah,” Mikey agrees.

Geoff nods. “Cool. There’s a lot of shit to sort out with bringing a new band onto the label, so it probably won’t be for a while. Maybe not until spring. But I’ll be in contact through Mikey and Frank, and we’ll figure out a time for you guys to come sign in the next few months, maybe, and talk about recording.”

Matt catches Gerard’s eye and looks at him imploringly. “What?” Gerard mouths.

“Screamer?” Matt mouths back, making sure no one is looking at him as he does.

“Oh!” Gerard says aloud without meaning to, drawing the attention of the group. Sheepishly, he turns to look at Geoff. “Um. We should mention… we’re kind of looking for a fifth member. We need a screamer and– and maybe someone who can play rhythm guitar too?” He’s proud of himself for being able to string that many words together with the amount of booze he has in him, and counts it as a win.

Geoff nods, and Gerard can’t help noticing that Frank’s eyes have widened a little as he looks at the four of them. “I think that’d be good,” Geoff says. “I think that could really add something to your sound. Let me know if you find someone. If not, after you sign, Eyeball can always help with that, too.” He smiles, wide and genuine.

He shakes all their hands again before he leaves with Frank. As Gerard watches them climb the stairs together he feels a twinge of jealousy out of nowhere and silently chastises himself for thinking about Frank like that, and especially for making assumptions about Frank’s relationships. He knows there’s nothing going on between Frank and Geoff, who’s older and practically Frank’s _boss_. Still, Gerard wishes it was him leaving with Frank, even if it’s just to grab a quick smoke outside and go their separate ways. _Too late now_ , he thinks, _fucked that one up good_. He sighs and turns around to find the rest of his band retreating to the green room without him. He hurries to catch up, and helps them carry things out to their respective cars.

“See you guys next practice!” Ray calls happily from the window of his sedan as he drives past Gerard and Mikey loading a box of t-shirts (of which they did not sell as many as at the last show) into Gerard’s hatchback.

Mikey waives, and then says to Gerard, “You should thank Frank. For what he did in the bathroom.”

Gerard nods, not saying anything, but silently thanks Mikey for reminding him how healthy friendships are supposed to work. If he and Frank can still be called friends. The two of them climb into the car and drive home in silence, Gerard keeping his eyes forward and trying hard not to think about how long a road they have ahead of them. _At least we’re going somewhere_ , he thinks. _At least_ I’m _going somewhere that isn’t straight into the ground._

~

“Don’t mention it.” Frank’s text comes through almost immediately after Gerard thanked him for his help the night before, both with Geoff and in the bathroom.

Even through the embarrassment he feels in digging up those memories of being sprawled out on some kid’s bathroom tiles while Frank held his hair back, Gerard smiles. It feels good to not have Frank angry with him anymore. Or, at least, not so angry that Frank won’t talk to him. He wishes he knew how to fix things for good, though, so that they can be friends and maybe even something more down the road. But then he remembers Frank on his birthday, partying and flirting with his friends, Gerard completely forgotten, and he thinks maybe he doesn’t want to fix things after all.

He sighs, looks down at the stupid art commission he should be working on. He’s always hated making art for other people; not having total creative control over his work is usually something that stops him from finishing it altogether. That’s why he always bent the rules as much as he could in school and at work, so that he didn’t feel like what he was making was a complete waste of time and talent, at least. It only got him in trouble a handful of times.

But now he has to find a way to pay for a new amp they need, and he’s helping Mikey save up for a bass so he can stop borrowing Ray’s. They need money, _desperately_ at this point. So, for now, he has to play by the rules.

The half-finished portrait of some old lady holding her beagle stares up at him. He wishes more than anything that he could throw a little blood in there, maybe paint a vampire looming over them. But he can’t, and he understands that this is one of many sacrifices he’ll have to make for the band.

He sighs again, plucks a brush from the cup beside the canvas, and begins mixing yet another boring, bright color. “This better be worth it.”

~

“I’m gonna need you to stop freaking out right about now.” Mikey gives him a disapproving look from where he stands, towering over Gerard who is on the floor beside yet another pile of clothes.

“I can’t, Mikes! This is too important.” Gerard turns and starts sifting through the clothes again, picking out a few t-shirts that look promising before scowling and throwing them back on the mass of clothing.

Mikey sighs and crouches down so he’s at eye level with Gerard. “It’s really not, Gee. It’s just a stupid party. Frank’s gonna be so busy he probably won’t even have time to talk to you.”

Gerard looks at him incredulously. “But he’s definitely gonna _see_ me, and that’s the part that matters!”

Mikey pinches the bridge of his nose and his glasses slide dangerously towards the floor. “Jesus Christ. Okay, here’s what you’re gonna do,” he says, looking up at Gerard again. “You’re gonna pick out some band tee you’ve worn seven hundred times and a pair of good jeans – and I mean _good_ , Gerard, not any with holes in the crotch – and you’re gonna wear absolutely any shoes other than those stupid fucking New Balances, and if you do all that, you’ll be golden.”

Gerard gapes at Mikey. “They’re _your_ New Balances.”

Mikey looks at him incredulously. “Yeah, but does it _look_ like I’m wearing them when I’m trying to impress a guy I used to sleep with?”

Gerard wasn’t aware that Mikey _had_ guys he used to sleep with, but instead of mentioning it, he laments, “Okay! Okay, fine. No nerdy tennis shoes, no holes in the crotch.”

“Cool,” Mikey says and digs his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “And do it soon, we gotta leave in, like, ten minutes.”

Gerard peers at the phone over Mikey’s shoulder. “What are you fucking talking about? The doors don’t even open for over half an hour.”

Mikey slides his phone back into his pocket and pokes Gerard in the side. “Yeah, but with you driving like a grandma, we’ll get there right on time.” He laughs at Gerard’s unimpressed face. “Plus, I know that this–” he gestures to the pile of clothes at his feet– “is gonna take way longer than ten minutes. So I’m giving us a buffer.”

“Wow. Rude,” Gerard says, but he’s secretly grateful for Mikey’s practicality. They’d both be lost without it.

Mikey claps Gerard on the back as he stands up. “Good luck, dude. Don’t worry too much.”

“I’ll try,” Gerard says, but Mikey is already climbing the stairs out of the basement.

~

“While you were fucking off I went and found something new!” Frank is screaming and the lights are blinding and the guitars are deafening. Waves of over-stimulation keep coming and Gerard is falling into them, losing himself in it in a way that he hasn’t done in years.

Gerard watches as Frank hurls himself from one end of the stage to the other during a guitar solo, just barely making it back to the mic to start yelling into it again. It’s incredible, truly fucking incredible, for Gerard to see Frank in action. He’s all white-hot energy, relentless and powerful. More than anything, it’s awesome to hear the Pencey Prep demo come to life. They sound every bit as aggressive and bold as they did on the tape, but now it’s _here_ , right in front of Gerard’s eyes, and he can’t believe how much bigger it all is.

He lost track of Mikey ages ago. At first, he thought he’d have to cling to his brother for support the whole night, but when he saw Frank was just about to go on stage, his fears slipped away. As Mikey faded into the crowd chasing after someone or other he knew, Gerard watched him go, and then threw himself into the sea of bodies swarming up close to the stage, hands stretched out, trying to touch the magic that was unfolding before them.

Pencey plays ten songs, every one off their new album. Gerard sings along to what he knows, and listens intently to what he doesn’t as he closes his eyes and moves to the beat. Finally, they finish “Fat and Alone” as the last song of the encore, and the lights come up as the crowd laughs and cheers.

Frank holds his guitar in the air and says into the mic, “Thank you all so much for coming out tonight! Thank you for buying our album, we’re so grateful for that. And thank you to Eyeball Records for having us on their label.” He turns away, and it looks as if the band is about to leave the stage, when one of Frank’s bandmates – Gerard is pretty sure he recognizes him as Tim – says something in Frank’s ear and he turns back to the mic. “Oh! And thank you to My Chemical Romance for being out favorite band, and for putting out a sick demo that’s kept us going. You all should totally check them out. Goodnight!”

Gerard’s body goes still and his mouth drops open. None of those in reach are people who know, who could possibly understand exactly what Frank just said, how much it means to him, and he starts to panic.

Suddenly, there’s a comforting hand on his shoulder and Mikey is asking him, “You okay?”

“I gotta get out of here,” is all he can put together in response.

Mikey seems to understand, because he nods and starts directing Gerard out of the crowd. Gerard is trying to scan the faces of the people they pass and keep his head down at the same time, hoping to God they don’t run into Frank or, at least, if they do, he can sneak away before Frank recognizes him.

They’re successful – almost. They reach the door and the bouncer nods at them as they step out into the chilly night. It’s firmly fall now, just a few days after Thanksgiving, and Gerard’s family keeps reminding him to wear thicker jackets and socks but time and time again he forgets. A rare cloudless sky greets them, but Gerard’s view is fogged over with cigarette smoke. He turns his gaze from the moon to the group of people laughing against the side of the building, and recognizes it as nearly all of Pencey Prep. He freezes, and Mikey does too when he realizes what’s going on.

Frank has his back to them, and sets off with his stoner giggle at some joke someone made, apparently not sensing the pairs of wide eyes boring holes in his back. Gerard knows he should move, knows that if they bolt right now they can make it to the car before Frank could catch up to them, if he sees them at all. But before he can get his feet to work, Shaun spots him, and his eyes flick between Gerard and Frank.

“Mikes–” Gerard starts, intending to tell Mikey to drag him out of here no matter what it takes, but he doesn’t get any farther than that.

Shaun steps forward and gently nudges Frank’s shoulder, who turns around slowly and confusedly until he finally spots Gerard and Mikey standing behind him. Suddenly, it seems like the rest of the Pencey Prep guys have faded into the background, leaving Frank out like bait in open water.

Mikey leans in and says, “I’m gonna… go,” low in Gerard’s ear and before Gerard can protest, Mikey is already halfway to the car – _Gerard’s_ car – and then driving off. When Gerard turns back to Frank, the other guys have disappeared completely, and now it’s just the two of them on the empty street. Well, plus the silent bouncer who is tapping away on his cellphone and seems to not be at all interested in their little melodrama.

“Hey,” Frank says, stiff and awkward.

“Hey,” Gerard returns, with a little wave, as if this was not already uncomfortable enough.

“How’d you like the show?” It’s not just small talk; Frank actually sounds like he wants to know what Gerard has to say.

“It was good,” he says, and then shakes his head. “No, I mean– Shit. It was fucking _amazing_ , Frankie.” The nickname kind of just slips his way in there, he doesn’t mean for it to happen, but Frank doesn’t seem bothered.

“Really?” he asks, taking a step forward as if he almost doesn’t realize he’s doing it. “You’re not fucking with me?”

Gerard scoffs, but not meanly. “Of course not.” And then, more softly, “I wouldn’t joke about something like that. Not with you.”

The moment suddenly seems very intimate, and Gerard realizes Frank must have taken another step forward at some point as they’re now in arm’s reach of each other.

Frank looks down and scratches the back of his neck. “Thanks, Gee. You honestly don’t know how much that means.”

“Don’t mention it. Hey,” he smacks Frank lightly on the arm dangling by his side, “thanks for saying we’re your favorite band. That was so fucking awesome of you. I honestly can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for us.”

Frank meets his eye again and smiles, big and bright and genuine. “Don’t mention it,” he says, repeating Gerard’s words.

Silence falls on their conversation, and Gerard doesn’t have anything with which to fill it. His eyes dart around, falling on the now-extinguished cigarettes on the dirty concrete, the fading streetlamp, the racoon prowling the trashcans in an alley nearby. There’s nothing for him to grasp onto, and he feels the silence stretching for longer than is comfortable. He starts to lose it, his eyes moving faster and his fingers tapping against the side of his leg. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Frank beats him to it.

“What happened?” Frank asks, and Gerard closes his mouth and gives Frank a confused look. “At the party,” he clarifies. “Where did you go?”

“Oh. Um, I went outside. Sat in the hallway with Shaun for a while. He’s a cool dude. Then Mikey came and got me, and we went home.”

Frank nods. “Okay but… why?”

Gerard shrugs, fixing his eyes anywhere but Frank’s. “No reason,” He lies. “Just… you were busy. I didn’t think you still wanted me to stay, so I left. It’s no big deal.”

“Why would you think that?” It’s not accusatory. Frank seems to legitimately want to know the reason for Gerard’s leaving the party, and he asks the question with an earnest kind of tone that makes Gerard’s heart hurt. Just a little.

“I–” He sighs and plants his eyes on the ground. “I saw you. In the kitchen with your friends. I dunno, I just…” He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, and he doesn’t try to. He waits for Frank’s reply, but a few moments pass and nothing comes. Finally, he looks up, and finds Frank staring at him with his mouth open and his eyebrows up to his hairline. “What?” he asks.

“You got _jealous_?” Frank’s mouth shifts into a mischievous grin.

“No! I just thought you were having a good time and you didn’t need me to stick around and, like, dampen the mood or whatever. I wasn’t jealous.”

Frank’s grin doesn’t falter. “You so totally were. Christ, Gee. If you wanted me to do a body shot off you, all you had to do was ask.”

“I don’t want–” he starts, but then clamps his mouth shut when he realizes he really _does_ want that. He sighs. “It’s just that, when they dragged you off to the kitchen I thought it was because they didn’t want _us_ together. But then I saw you and… it was me that was the problem. Just me.” And it had felt like being right back in high school again. Always the loser, always the outcast, always the fool that no one bothered with except for to occasionally yank his chain for a few laughs.

Frank looks a little more serious then. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. And you’re right, they probably don’t think I should be with you. Which is fucking stupid because you’re awesome, so it doesn’t make any sense. And who are they to judge anyway?” He smiles awkwardly before continuing. “I won’t– I promise I won’t do shit like that anymore. I didn’t even realize what they were doing, but now I do, and it was shitty of them and of me. You don’t deserve crap like that.” He pauses. “Forgive me?” he asks.

Gerard finds that he doesn’t feel like he needs to force himself to forgive Frank, and that he really _wants_ to forgive him. So, he does. Simple as that. “Yeah, I do. I just… It was confusing.”

Frank nods and takes yet another step, placing him firmly in Gerard’s space, and locks their eyes in an intense gaze. “Come home with me.”

“Frank, I don’t–” Gerard isn’t exactly sure what his objection is, but he doesn’t have to figure it out because Frank cuts him off.

“Gerard, I _know_ you. Not super well, not yet, but well enough to know that you will always make excuses to get rid of the things that are good for you. And I’m not saying I’m all that great, but we were good together, and nothing you can say is gonna get rid of me, okay?”

Gerard hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Okay.”

Frank slides his hand into Gerard’s, stilling the tapping that he was still carrying out against his thigh. “All right then,” Frank says. “Let’s go.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like fluff.

Gerard wakes to wet lips at the base of his spine, then pressing kisses up his back. He lets out a moan, muffled by a pillow, and feels his morning wood grow stronger as he presses down into the sheets. The lips slowly move higher and higher up, and then teeth bite into to the muscle between his shoulder and neck. Gerard moans louder, and then a tongue is tracing over the place where the teeth previously were, soothing the skin. The lips work their way up his neck, sucking slightly in places, until they meet his ear. The tongue licks along the shell and he can feel puffs of hot breath on his skin.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ love me for what I just did,” Frank says, low and seductive. _I think I already might_ , Gerard thinks, but before he has the chance to say anything or even worry about where his thoughts are going, Frank continues, “Got you a show. At a club. No more basement parties for you.”

Gerard’s body tenses and he shifts his head until he can look at Frank out of the corner of his eye. “Are you serious?”

“Hell yeah I am. Just got off the phone with the owner of the place. Just before Christmas.” He presses a kiss to Gerard’s cheek. “You’re opening for us.”

Gerard moves until he’s looking up at Frank with his back to the mattress. “We get to play the same show?” It’s almost too good to be true. It’s what he’s wanted since he saw Frank and the rest of Pencey perform the night before, to share the same stage with them, to share in their magic.

Frank smiles. “Yeah. We do.”

Gerard brings a hand up to the back of Frank’s neck and drags him down into a deep kiss. As his tongue slides against Frank’s, he can’t help but feel like this is more romantic than any kiss they’ve shared before. More romantic than anything they’ve done before, period. And if the look in Frank’s eyes when they part is anything to go by, Gerard would bet he feels the same.

“I’m really glad I met you,” Frank says, his breath ghosting over Gerard’s chin. “And I’m really glad you forgave me.”

Gerard closes his eyes and pulls Frank’s body flush against his own, and it feels so right the way they lock together like puzzle pieces. A perfect fit. He feels Frank’s heartbeat against his chest, steady and sure. “Me too.”

They lay there for a while, breathing against each other. They’re both hard but neither of them move to do anything about it just yet.

Eventually, Frank breaks the silence. “I have no idea why, but for some reason I sleep really well when you’re here.” He looks up at Gerard and smiles. “Gotta get you into my bed more often.”

Gerard laughs. “Really? I help?” Frank nods. “You have trouble sleeping a lot?” he asks softly.

“Yeah. All the time, pretty much. I dunno, I guess I’m just too high-strung to sleep unless I’m really relaxed. But the first time you stayed here I slept for _ages_. Like, until eleven. That’s unheard of for me.”

Gerard gives him a look. “You told me you slept almost as late as I did.”

Frank rolls his eyes. “I didn’t want to make you feel bad, dingus. And you need your beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, until you wake me up by getting me hard as a fucking rock. Christ, Frankie.” Gerard’s cock is still half-hard, and his skin is tingling as if Frank’s lips are still pressed to it.

And then, in an instant, they are. Frank sucks on Gerard’s neck, and it seems he’s intent on leaving an angry red mark there. Gerard moans and arches up, digging his fingers into Frank’s hips.

“Fuck,” Gerard breathes out.

Frank hums and grinds his hips down against Gerard’s, still sucking on his neck. Gerard slides his hand down Frank’s back until it reaches the swell of Frank’s ass. He kneads the skin between his fingers, pulling Frank to him insistently. Frank groans and shifts harder against Gerard, picking up a fast rhythm. Gerard slides his hand down farther, gently touching Frank’s hole with his fingertips. Frank is still loose from the fucking they did last night, and Gerard feels the effects of it as Frank’s hole accommodates his fingertip easily when he gently pushes one in.

“Holy fuck,” Frank says, and pushes back on Gerard’s finger even though it can’t be comfortable without any lube. “Wanna ride you.”

“Yeah?” If Gerard learned one thing the last time he was in Frank’s bed, it’s that Frank _loves_ riding cock. Usually, Gerard likes to have his partner beneath him, feel them shift and writhe under his hands. But with Frank, he’s more than willing to give up a little control if it means he can watch Frank’s body move above him.

“Yeah,” Frank whines.

Gerard smirks. “Have at it then.” He’s hoping Frank will understand what he wants: to watch. And with the way Frank looks at him now, with that mischievous grin and dark eyes, Gerard guesses he gets it.

Frank pulls back and reaches over to the bedside table. Gerard watches as he pulls out a bottle of lube, coats the fingers of his right hand with the substance, and then reaches behind himself, eyes locked on Gerard’s. Frank slides his index finger into his hole and slowly teases himself open. He moans, and Gerard keeps flicking his eyes between Frank’s face and fingers. Gerard grips Frank’s hips, digs his fingertips into the flesh hard because this is almost too much for him. His cock is aching to be touched, and Frank’s looks like it is too, but he doesn’t want to go there just yet.

Frank adds his middle finger alongside the first and pushes in deep. He moans again, low and sultry, and his cock twitches against his stomach. A drop of pre-come glistens on the tip, and Gerard wants nothing more than to lean forward and lick it off. He doesn’t, though. He grips Frank’s hips tighter so as to ground himself, stop himself from acting on impulse. He usually doesn’t do this, make himself wait. But something about it is undeniably hot to him, teasing himself while Frank drives him mad. He likes it, but he doesn’t know how much more he can take.

Frank is moaning louder now, thrusting down to meet his fingers, of which three are now buried inside him. He drops his gaze from Gerard and hangs his head, unable to keep it up any longer. While Frank isn’t looking, Gerard reaches out and plucks a condom from the bedside table. He tears the package open as quietly as he can (though Frank’s moans would probably cover up any sound it made) and rolls the condom onto his cock, finally allowing himself to have some friction.

He nearly manages to get it all the way on without Frank noticing, but he hisses in pleasure as his hand moves down and Frank’s eyes snap open. Frank flashes him that sly grin when he sees that Gerard has been getting himself ready just like he has, and he pulls his fingers from his hole. He shifts forward on his knees, grabs Gerard’s cock, causing Gerard to hiss again, and then sinks down onto it. He doesn’t go slow, not even for his own sake, and his hips meet Gerard’s almost immediately.

Gerard cries out at the same time as Frank, who wraps a hand around his own cock and holds it at the base. “Fuck, are you already close?” Gerard asks. He’s a little bit glad for it as he’s worried he won’t be able to hold on for very long.

Frank nods, his eyes squeezed shut. He doesn’t move yet, doesn’t release his grip on his cock either.

Gerard heaves a few breaths, trying to control himself with Frank’s muscles gripping him so tightly. “Didn’t that hurt?” he asks confusedly. Gerard knows some guys find pleasure in the stretch, sure, but Frank slamming down on him like that must have been at least a little bit painful.

Frank’s cheeks turn pink. “Yeah, a little,” he says shakily. He fights to opens his eyes, and they flash dark. “I kinda like it.”

Before Gerard has a chance to process that or get a handle on himself, Frank lifts his hips up and slides down again, albeit not quite as hard as the first time. He quickly sets up a brutally fast rhythm, and Gerard keeps up with him at first, but after a minute he decides to let Frank do the work.

It’s enchanting, the way Frank rolls his hips and tilts his head back to face the ceiling, and Gerard can’t do much more than lay back and watch. Frank’s hands move restlessly on Gerard’s chest, scrabbling for purchase and leaving bright red lines as his nails scrape the skin. Gerard doesn’t mind.

The tendons in Frank’s neck pull taught as Frank lets out a high-pitched moan, and then relax when Frank lowers his head to meet Gerard’s eye. With an intense gaze fixed on Gerard, Frank moves his hips with more force, and Gerard kicks into action. As Frank brings his hips down, Gerard fucks up into him, _hard_ , and Frank nearly screams. Gerard slams in again and again, pushing Frank’s pace faster.

Frank’s cock bounces between their bodies, flushed and leaking. Frank looks at Gerard desperately, and Gerard realizes he’s waiting for permission. _Permission_. Gerard almost can’t handle that.

“Touch yourself,” Gerard commands, and Frank does.

Almost as soon as Frank gets a hand around his cock, he’s gone. Come shoots out across Gerard’s stomach as Frank moans and moves his hips desperately. He clenches around Gerard, who follows immediately after, fucking Frank through both of their orgasms. He goes nearly blind with it, his vision turning white at the edges and his mind blank. All he can see, all he can feel, all he can _think_ , is Frank.

He comes for what seems like an inhumanly long time, his orgasm stretching on and on and on. Finally, their hips slow and their moans drop off until only their ragged breathing fills the room. Frank pulls off and collapses on the bed beside Gerard. Gerard turns his head to look at Frank, and notices that Frank seems to be having trouble getting his eyes open. He’s trying, obviously, to look at Gerard as he gives him a dopey, satisfied grin, but he can’t manage it, and his eyes slip closed again.

Gerard removes the condom and throws it away, and then snuggles up to Frank. Their sweat-slick bodies slide together, and the come drying on both of them should probably gross them out but Gerard can’t bring himself to care, and it seems like Frank can’t either.

Frank’s brow furrows. “We should get up,” he complains sleepily.

“Shh,” Gerard sooths. “You need your beauty sleep.” _As if you could be any more beautiful._

~

Frank looks up from his book. “Why don’t we ever hang out with Mikey?”

His question stirs Gerard from his relaxed state on the bed. They’ve been existing together in a comfortable silence for almost an hour now, Gerard having finished the commission he’d been working on and then drifting in and out of sleep on the bed next to Frank, who is steadily working his way through Gerard’s entire bookshelf. “You’ve got so many comics!” he’d exclaimed the first time Gerard brought him to his basement a few weeks ago. Frank had reached out a hand to pluck one off the shelf, but it stalled when his fingers brushed the spine. He’d cast a worried look at Gerard, asking permission without saying anything aloud. Gerard had just nodded, and Frank beamed at him. From then on, they spent as much time as they could together in Gerard’s basement, Frank reading book after book and Gerard painting or drawing or writing. That is, when they aren’t having loud sex in Frank’s apartment where no nosy family members would hear them.

Presently, Gerard scrubs a hand over his face and tries to drag himself out of the grogginess of his nap. “Um. I dunno. He does his own thing most of the time, I guess.”

Frank looks at him inquisitively. “You two don’t hang out together?”

“No, not so much anymore,” Gerard says, pulling himself up into sitting position so he can meet Frank at eye level. “We haven’t really hung out since, like, high school.”

Frank closes his book and sets it down in his lap. “Wow.” It’s not accusatory, but something in the way he says it makes Gerard feel the need to clarify.

“Just– I went to college and he had to make new friends. _I_ had to make new friends. And I always wanted him around, but he said it’d ruin my chances at being cool if he was my plus one at every party. He said that’s why I was so uncool in high school, because he was always hanging off my arm.” He lets out a breath. “I should’ve told him that’s not the way it was. Even if my best friend wasn’t my brother, I still would’ve been a loser in high school. I was fucking _destined_ to be a loser in high school. And he really was my best friend, ya know? Still is. I miss hanging out with him.”

“You should. _We_ should. Mikey’s cool, I like him.” Frank’s eyes go wide with excitement. “Oh, _shit!_ We should all go to a show together sometime. I’d love to see how that fucker is in a pit. I bet he goes hard as hell.”

Gerard laughs. “Sometimes, if he really likes the band. You should’ve seen him at your album release party. The guy was a menace.”

“Really?” Frank seems genuinely surprised that Mikey is such a big fan of Pencey. Gerard nods, and Frank gives him a winning smile that makes his stomach flip. “That’s so cool.” He places the book on Gerard’s bedside table and scoots so the two of them are pressed up against each other. He reaches out a hand and traces lazy circles on Gerard’s thigh through the sheets, lays his cheek on Gerard’s shoulder.

They stay like that for some time. Gerard’s eyes eventually fall closed, and he’s in the process of drifting off to sleep with the help of Frank’s soothing fingers on his leg when he feels Frank tense and sit up. He cracks his eyes open and is met with a brilliant grin and a mischievous look.

“I’m wondering,” Frank says tauntingly, “when do I get to meet your parents?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Gerard grabs a pillow and lobs it at Frank, who’s laughing uncontrollably. “Don’t even joke about that, you shithead!”

Frank smacks Gerard on the shoulder with the pillow Gerard just hit him with. “I’ve been here so many times and I’ve only met your grandmother! Who’s awesome, don’t get me wrong. But when are we gonna make this little _thang_ official, huh?”

Gerard’s eyes go wide. They haven’t talked about this, not seriously. It’s been almost a month of seeing each whenever they can between band stuff and Frank’s classes, but they haven’t made any real plans and they definitely haven’t established whether this is a meet-the-parents situation. “You really want to?” He has trouble believing Frank actually would. He’s got a lot going for himself. _Gerard_ is the one who still lives with his parents and makes shitty art in their basement. Frank could score an invite to a family dinner like _that_. Gerard would be surprised if he ever got the same.

“Of course I do,” Frank says seriously. “As long as you’re good with it. Wait, do they know you’re gay?”

“Yeah. It would be fine, I think. I dunno… I’ve never brought anyone home before.” Frank snickers and Gerard smacks him on the shoulder. “Not that way, you piece of shit. I’ve brought lots of people _home_.”

Through his giggles, Frank asks, “Really? Lots?”

Gerard feels his cheeks heat up. “Well…” He’s not going to brag, but he’s had his fair share of hook-ups. Not a ton, but SVA was a mad house of young, high-strung artists looking for any kind of outlet for their frustration, and going to punk shows, even just every once in awhile, often has its opportunities. “Kind of?”

“Wow. I mean, not that I’m really surprised, just… You’ve never said anything about it.”

Gerard shrugs. “It wasn’t important.”

Frank absent mindedly brushes a strand of hair out of Gerard’s face. They’ve settled into these sorts of actions so easily, and Gerard loves the way that Frank doesn’t even think before showing his affection.

Frank looks down. “This is important, right?” His voice is so soft Gerard almost doesn’t hear it.

Gerard hooks a finger under Frank’s chin and lifts it. “Yeah, it is,” he says, and kisses him.

After almost constant reminders from Frank, Gerard procures a family dinner invite for him three days later. He’s in the kitchen afterwards, finishing up the dirty dishes as Donna boxes leftovers, when she turns to him and says, “He’s a nice boy. I’m happy for you, Gee.”

Gerard pauses, suds dripping off his fingers into the sink. “Thanks, Ma.”

“I’m glad he’s already friends with Mikey, and your Grandma just adores him. Your Dad approves too, I can tell.” She flashes him a sly grin. “Even if he’s not too keen on Frank’s, uh, _aesthetic_.”

Gerard bursts out laughing. “He’ll come around.”

Donna’s smile softens to one that’s warm and sincere. She places a hand on Gerard’s shoulder and says, “Bring him around whenever you want, okay?”

“Okay. I will.”

She nods. “Go find him. I’ll finish up here.”

Despite Gerard’s insisting that he should be the one to do the dishes, she shoos him out of the kitchen as soon as he’s dried his hands.

Frank’s stoner giggle is loud and clear as Gerard rounds the corner to the living room. Frank is seated next to Elena on the piano bench, his hands awkwardly placed on the keys as she directs him to play certain notes and chords.

“Okay, now the C chord,” she says, and Gerard can tell she’s smiling even though he can’t see it. He leans against the doorway and crosses his arms, a smile of his own creeping onto his face.

“Got it,” Frank says. He plays something that sounds like a cat dying, and the two of them crack up. “I’m hopeless at this, Helena.”

Behind them, Gerard’s tries to control his surprise at the way Frank has picked up their nickname for her so fast. Frank fits in so well here, with his weird family and their odd habits, and it warms him inside to see it.

Even with his punk clothes and ever-increasing number of tattoos, Frank had charmed Gerard’s family as easily as he did anything. It was just one more example of how Frank moved through the world so effortlessly, conquering one obstacle after another. Gerard admired and envied him for it. He’d give anything for just a little of Frank’s magic.

He gets his wish when Frank turns his head and sees Gerard standing in the doorway. Frank’s grin widens and he winks at Gerard before turning back to the piano. Gerard’s breath catches in his throat, and he wonders what could possibly be so special about him to deserve someone like Frank looking at him like _he’s_ the one who could enchant the whole world with just one look, and maybe a song.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm going to have finals for the next few weeks and I won't have any time to work on this fic. Sorry. I'm going to publish chapter 13 on 12/23 at the latest, but hopefully sooner. Finals end the 19th so we'll see. After that, I'm hopeful I'll be able to pick up the pace a little as I'll have lots of free time over winter break. I'm also maybe writing a partyghoul fic as a final project for one of my classes lmao. It might not come together in time for the class, but I think I'll finish it and publish it here either way. So be on the lookout for that. For now, enjoy the longest chapter of this fic so far.
> 
> P.S. Good luck with finals if you have them too!

There’s a crash from the row over, and Gerard is so deep in the Sandman trade he’s working through that he barely has the mind to look up. He peeks his head around the shelves and sees Frank lying on his back, a pile of comic books splayed out beneath him, and Gerard bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’m totally fine,” Frank says sarcastically as he sits up and starts carefully placing the books in a stack.

Gerard bends down and help with the books, trying to stifle his giggles. “How did you manage to wind up on your ass?”

Frank keeps his eyes on the comics as he says, “Tripped over the stack.”

Gerard looks at him incredulously and cracks up again before another voice shushes them from a few rows over and he shuts up. “Oh my god,” he whispers. “You’re ridiculous. Just _buy_ some of them, Christ. They’ll give you bags, you know.”

Frank huffs. “I can’t afford all of them and I can’t just _choose_. Not until I’ve whittled it down the must-haves.”

Gerard places the final book on top of the towering stock pile. “How far have you gotten?”

Frank scans the spines. “These are the must-haves.”

“Oh my God! You are fucking ridiculous!” Gerard repeats, but he’s laughing, quietly this time. He wants nothing more than to buy Frank every comic book he could ever want, but Gerard knows he barely has enough to afford the books he’s picked out for himself. Frank grins at him and Gerard feels his chest expand. He wants to give Frank the fucking world. “We can come back. After the next gig, when we both have some more cash,” he says hopefully.

Frank sighs. “Maybe. But I’ll have to do all my Christmas shopping and then rent’s due pretty soon after. God, it’s getting really fucking expensive living alone. My mom tries to help me with it but…” Frank looks down at his lap. “She can’t do that all the time.”

It’s right on the tip of his tongue. He wants to suggest it, but it’s stupid. They’ve known each other for such a short amount of time, and a big chunk of it has been miscommunications and unsure footing. Still, Gerard would kill to wake up next to Frank every day, to share coffee and music and shitty horror movies, to go to sleep next to him every night, wake up, and do it all over again. He wants it, but he can’t bring himself to say so.

“I’m thinking of asking Shaun to move in with me. He wants to get out of his parents’ place.” Frank won’t meet his eye, and Gerard suddenly realizes he’s looking for validation.

“That’s a good idea. I bet Shaun would be a good roommate.” Of the people Frank could have picked, Shaun is definitely the best. Though Gerard wonders what this will mean for their late nights of loud sex. And where Shaun will sleep in Frank’s one-bedroom…

“Yeah, maybe. I’m gonna try to put that off, though. I’ve had too many shitty roommate experiences to jump right back into it.” Frank looks at the stack of comic books again. “Hey, is this any good?” He hands Gerard a copy of the Invisibles and Gerard’s mouth drops open.

“Uhh, _yes_. Morrison is a fucking genius, and the Invisibles is some of his best work.” He continues for another three minutes before he realizes he’s rambling, and comes to a halt. “Sorry,” he says, his cheeks growing hot.

Frank is beaming at him. “Why are you sorry? It’s fucking awesome you know so much about this dude.” He smacks Gerard playfully on the shoulder. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you have a crush.”

Gerard’s feels himself get even more flushed. “Well maybe I do. You don’t know how I feel about my comic writing heroes.” Frank laughs, and the clear ring of it washes over Gerard. He’d give anything to hear that laugh every fucking day for the rest of his life.

“Come on, help me choose from these,” Frank says, gesturing to the remaining books.

Gerard nods and sits down cross-legged in front of the pile. “Okay, now, _this_ is a must-have…” He barely looks at Frank during the process, because he’s worried that if he does he’ll get flustered and lose his train of thought like a total dork, but he can feel Frank’s gentle smile on him the whole time.

~

“Gee,” Mikey says, shaking his shoulder. “Gee, Frank’s here.”

Gerard groans and cracks an eye open. “Fuck, Mikey. You really called him?” He doesn’t want Frank to see him like this, unable to get out of bed or stay sober for more than a few hours.

“Hey, I warned you I would.” Mikey doesn’t sound angry, but it doesn’t comfort Gerard. He gives Gerard one last pat on the shoulder and then leaves the basement.

In the past few days, everything seems to have gone wrong. He fucked up a commission and lost the client, he forgot he’d promised to take Mikey to see the new Harry Potter movie, instead choosing to get blind drunk in his basement so Mikey had to take care of him, he cancelled band practice because the song he’d promised to finish beforehand just would _not_ come together, and on top of it all he couldn’t bring himself to answer Frank’s calls.

He regrets the last one the most, because at least everyone else had some understanding of why he was fucking up. Well, except that bitch of a client who couldn’t deal with the painting of his precious yacht looking a little cartoony. But Frank’s never seen him like this before, and Gerard had hoped he never would.

“Hey,” Frank says from where he stands awkwardly in the doorway.

Gerard closes his eyes again and sighs. “I’m sorry, Frankie,” he says, managing to only slur a little bit. His head is pounding and all he really wants to do is sleep, but he forces himself to open his eyes and focus on Frank. “Don’t come over here, I smell.”

Frank laughs a little at that. “Gee, you shower, like, once a month. I think I can handle it.” He takes a few steps towards the bed, but stops when Gerard shies away from him.

Gerard takes in a shaky breath and feels tears pricking in his eyes. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to see this.”

“Why?” Frank crosses the last few feet to the bed and kneels down so their faces are at the same level. “Why shouldn’t I see you?”

“Because I’m a fucking loser, Frank. And I can’t get a damn thing right, especially not this.” Gerard gestures between the two of them. “I’m just gonna fuck it up. Just like everything else I do. So what’s the point in trying?”

Frank’s face scrunches up in confusion. “You thought I’d leave you?”

Gerard sighs again. “You should.” He knows he’s maybe being a bit dramatic, but he can’t help feeling like he doesn’t deserve Frank, especially when he’s completely helpless like he is now.

“Gee, remember what I told you?” Frank slides a hand over the bedspread to hold one of Gerard’s. “Nothing you can say is gonna get rid of me.”

“I–”

“ _Nothing_ , Gerard.” He brings Gerard’s hand to his lips and kisses it softly. “Not a damn thing.”

Against his will, a tear spills over Gerard’s eye and down his cheek. “Okay.”

Frank gives him a small smile. “Okay.”

Frank helps Gerard out of bed and into the shower, and the days of sweat and grime slowly wash away. Gerard can’t help but feel embarrassed about the whole thing, especially because this is nothing like how he’d pictured showering with Frank. Not that Frank is really showering, just offering an arm to keep him steady and helping him in and out of his clothes.

While they’re in the bathroom, Mikey brews coffee and brings some blankets up to the living room, both of which they find when they leave the basement with Gerard now dressed in clean pajamas. The whole thing makes Gerard’s face flame up, and it refuses to die down as Frank gets him settled on the couch and Mikey slides Return of the Jedi into the VCR. This is the first time the three of them have hung out, the first time since Frank mentioned he wanted to. And they’re stuck babysitting him.

“You guys don’t have to do this, you know,” Gerard says in a feeble attempt to regain some of his dignity, and to make sure they know they don’t have to be responsible for his fuck ups.

Mikey says nothing, doesn’t even take his eyes off the TV. Frank gives him a confused look. “What makes you think we’re doing this because we have to?” Frank asks.

Gerard shrugs at him. “I just mean I’d be fine on my own.” He cringes internally at how ungrateful he sounds.

“You’d be fine if I left you to stew in your own filth in the basement?” Mikey says, voice flat and still not looking his way.

He knows he should just thank them and drop it. But his head is pounding and his vision is blurry and all he wants to do is go back downstairs, crawl under the covers, and never come out again. He grits his teeth and looks straight at Mikey when he says, “I don’t need your help.”

Only then does Mikey look at him, and Gerard really wishes he hadn’t. Mikey’s gaze is piercing, and he draws his eyebrows together the way he does when he’s trying to look pensive rather than show the hurt he’s feeling. “Fuck you. I’m not gonna let you rot down there.” Gerard looks away sharply, unable to stay under Mikey’s scrutiny. “What the fuck is so different about this than all the other times I’ve dragged you out of your misery, huh?”

There’s a pause, and then Frank asks, “Is it me?” Gerard turns to Frank to see him looking back with sadness clear on his face. “Because, like, I can leave if– if you need space.”

“Frankie, no, it’s not– I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole.” Gerard’s face heats up again at the embarrassment of how he’s treated the two of them.

“It _is_ you,” Mikey says to Frank. “But it’s the other way around.” Mikey gives Gerard another scathing look. “He doesn’t need me anymore,” he says and then gets up and leaves the room.

“Fuck,” Gerard says. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“Shit. I didn’t mean to cause this between you two,” Frank says. Gerard can tell that Frank is overthinking, trying to figure out a way to right the situation already.

“It’s not your fault. And it’s not your responsibility to fix it, either,” Gerard tells him as he unwraps himself from the blankets and rises to his feet. “I’ll be right back.” Frank nods, looking like he wants to go with Gerard but knows he’s not invited. Gerard lays a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” he repeats, softer this time.

“Okay,” Frank says, looking a little bit less conflicted, but he doesn’t smile and Gerard really wishes he would. He could use a little encouragement right now.

Gerard leaves the living room, rubbing his temples to try to alleviate some of his headache. The coffee helped a little, but he still wishes he was sleeping this off right now. In the end, though, he knows Mikey is right. “Sleeping it off” isn’t really something Gerard does, he just rests until he’s ready to get up and get drunk again, continuing the cycle until Mikey or his mom or _someone_ pulls him out of it.

He half-walks, half-stumbles down the hallway to the kitchen and finds Mikey sitting at the table, staring at the wall.

“Hey,” Gerard says.

Mikey doesn’t look his way, doesn’t react at all.

He approaches cautiously, trying to gauge whether Mikey is waiting for him to make amends or if he really does want to be left alone. He takes a seat across the table and tries to catch Mikey’s eye. “Hey,” he says again.

Mikey’s eyes flick to his for a long moment and then back to the wall, and that’s all Gerard needs to know that he’s listening. “I’m sorry. I’m a selfish piece of shit sometimes, you know that. I just…” He cards a hand through his hair, looks everywhere but at Mikey. “It’s embarrassing as hell. I didn’t want Frank to see how I need taking care of. But–” He looks at Mikey then, and finds Mikey staring at him, expression unreadable. “But thank you for calling him. I need him here and you knew that even though I didn’t. And thank you for helping me like you always do.” Gerard chuckles nervously. “I never really thank you for all the shit I put on you, do I?” Mikey’s face softens as he shakes his head. “Thank you, Mikes.”

“Sure.” Mikey looks down at the table. “You know I don’t do it because I feel obligated to, right?” Gerard nods, but Mikey doesn’t see it. “You’re my brother and I’m not gonna just leave you alone like that. It’s not bad if you need someone to look out for you, Gee.” Mikey looks up again, and his face is so impossibly sad it makes Gerard’s stomach drop. “And it’s okay if you need it to be me, or Frank. Or both of us.”

Gerard nods again. “Yeah, I know.”

Frank smiles a little when they come back to the living room together. He’s rewound the movie to the beginning, as none of them had really been paying attention to it, and he holds out the blanket for Gerard to slip under. When Gerard is settled, Frank wraps the blanket tightly around the both, and sits close so that their thighs and arms touch. Gerard can feel the steady rise and fall of Frank’s breathing, and he closes his eyes as Mikey sits down and the familiar opening theme plays.

~

They’ve just moved from casual kisses to heavy making out when Frank’s phone rings. He groans against Gerard’s lips and pulls back, reaching for the bedside table.

“What?” Frank says into the receiver, obviously annoyed.

Gerard runs his hands up and down Frank’s sides, watching him squirm as he tries to pay attention to whatever the person on the other end is telling him.

“Fuck, _fine_. I’ll be there soon.” Frank snaps the phone closed and sets it back down. “Emergency band practice in half an hour,” he says with a roll of his eyes. As the next gig looms ever closer, Pencey has gotten even more intense with their practice schedule. Usually, Frank is the one to call emergency sessions when he realizes they need to change something or when he thinks he’s got a really great new part he wants to work in, but recently the other guys have been calling the shots. And for some reason, it seems that they always call them at the worst possible time.

Gerard pouts. “What am I gonna do down here all by my lonesome?” Not that they’d actually be able to do much with Gerard’s family puttering around upstairs, but it’s been a few days since Frank and Mikey helped him out of his bender and his room is actually kind of clean for once. Clean enough that he’d maybe like to try having sex with Frank before everything goes to shit again, as he knows it inevitably will.

Frank just laughs at him. “Probably take care of that massive problem you’ve got going on in your pants.”

“Well, yeah,” Gerard says as he cracks a smile. “But I’d rather _you_ take care of it for me.”

Frank moves his head to the crook of Gerard’s neck and grinds against him a little. Gerard can feel Frank’s own problem getting steadily worse. “Yeah,” Frank says, “me too. But I gotta go.”

“Mmm.” Gerard digs his fingers into Frank’s hips and drags their bodies together more insistently. “You sure about that?”

Frank’s breaths are hot and short against Gerard’s neck, and Frank presses his lips there every few seconds, almost as if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. “Y-yeah.” He moves against Gerard for a few more moments before he shakes his head and reluctantly pulls back. “Fuck, Gee. I really gotta go. You–” He stops short, his eyebrows drawing together as he looks down at Gerard.

“What?” Gerard asks.

“You should come with me.”

Gerard isn’t sure what to say. He’s been curious about Pencey’s practice sessions since he realized that they take them incredibly seriously, practicing nearly every day and having actual consequences if someone doesn’t show up. But even with the invite Shaun gave him ages ago, he’s not sure it’s a good idea to show up for a few reasons. Firstly, Frank is very personal about his music, and Gerard doesn’t want to impose, and secondly because he’s not sure what the other members of Pencey will think about them showing up together, regardless of whether or not they realize what’s going on between them.

He settles for asking, “Are you sure?” and kind of hoping that Frank doesn’t change his mind.

“Yeah, totally. Shaun’s been bugging me about when I’m gonna bring you around. And it’s about time you met the other guys, anyway.”

“Okay, cool. I can drive.”

Frank smiles and leans in to kiss Gerard soft and sweet. “Thanks,” he says when they part.

Gerard drives them across town to Pencey’s practice space and pulls up outside. It’s in a shitty part of town, but it’s one of the only places that rents to local bands for cheap. Frank leads them through the dark hallways of the building, hearing the music of one mediocre metal band after another bleed out from behind the rows of closed doors before finally finding Pencey’s.

Frank pauses with his hand on the knob, turning to look at Gerard. “Don’t worry, okay? They’ll like you. And they don’t have to know about us, if you don’t want them to.”

Gerard considers the situation for a moment. “I think… Yeah I think it might not be the time to tell them. Yet.”

Frank smiles reassuringly. “Got it.” He turns the knob and throws the door open, greeting the other guys with a “What’s up, motherfuckers?” and strutting into the room like he owns it.

Gerard shakes his head, smiling to himself, and steps inside with none of the same confidence that Frank had. He trails behind as they approach the other guys, trying to look calm, cool and collected but knowing that probably looks like he’s ready to climb out of his skin.

“Guys, this is Gerard. Gee, meet Tim, Neil, Shaun, and John – but we call him Hambone.” Frank beams as he gestures to each of the other guys.

Gerard lifts a hand in an awkward wave and says, “Hey.”

Shaun nods at him. “Good to see you, dude.”

The rest of them are welcoming enough, giving Gerard claps on the back and complimenting his work with My Chem. Gerard’s face heats up a little at the praise, but he accepts it graciously and tells them all how much he loves Pencey’s album, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

Frank directs him to one of the rickety metal chairs in the corner of the practice space where Gerard sits to watch the session. Frank plucks a guitar from the rack against the wall, plugs it in and tunes it for a moment with a pick in his mouth, and then immediately jumps into a song. The rest of the band joins in as if Frank has started them off like this countless times, going with the flow while Frank holds the reins.

They play six songs straight through, all of which Gerard recognizes, and he just manages to keep from singing along to them so as not to further embarrass himself. When the last song ends, Frank stops and turns to face the guys behind him.

“Okay, I think we should try the new one a couple times, see if we can get it ready before the show.” He tunes his guitar again as he talks, and Gerard watches his hands move up and down the instrument.

“I don’t think we can do it. It’s too rough,” Tim says from behind his drum set.

“Yeah,” Neil agrees. “We don’t have the second verse or the end worked out, like, at all.”

“Well there’s no harm in _trying_ it,” Frank says in a tone that Gerard knows means he’s trying to keep his anger in check. “We’ll just figure it out as we go, come on.”

Shaun nods. “Yeah, might as well.”

After another minute of bickering, Frank gets the rest of the guys to agree, and he turns back around. He gives Gerard a shy smile before looking down at his guitar and playing the opening notes.

Gerard leans forward in his seat as the rest of the band comes in and Frank starts singing. He’s filled with a deep sense of satisfaction, hearing Pencey’s new song. It’s not that Heartbreak in Stereo bores him; it could never get old. But hearing something of theirs for the first time, and hearing it _live_ , right in front of him, it’s better than he can describe.

The first verse ends and the band plays through a sort of chorus that doesn’t have any vocals, but makes perfect sense in the context of the song. When the section comes to an end, everyone stops playing, and Frank quickly turns around again.

“Okay, what if we just did exactly the same thing for the second verse?” Frank asks nervously. “Like, I know that’s kinda boring and I usually think it’s lazy when bands to that but if we… I dunno, build on the backing a little I think it could really drive it home.”

The rest of the guys are silent for a moment, and Gerard waits their response with baited breath, feeling just about as anxious as Frank looks.

“I think… yeah,” John says. “I think that could be good.” Gerard exhales and he sees some of the tension leave Frank’s shoulders.

Shaun is nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, I don’t think it would be boring. Or lazy. It makes sense.”

“I don’t know, guys. I don’t think it’ll be enough,” Tim says as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Yeah, what do we do after that anyway?” Neil asks, a skeptical note to his voice.

“Uh,” Frank starts, but shrugs instead of elaborating.

“I could…” Shaun says. They all turn to look at him. “I could improvise some stuff. If you guys just keep going, I could mess around a little.”

“Shaun, we talked about this.” Tim sounds like he’s talking to a small child, not his adult bandmate whom he should respect. “No keyboards where they aren’t necessary.”

Gerard watches Frank cringe. “I don’t think we should stick to that,” Frank says, and the attention of the group is now back on him. “I think we should try Shaun’s idea.”

There’s an awkward pause while the five of them look between each other. Shaun’s eyes dart over to Gerard’s once, but he says nothing.

Finally, John exhales loudly and slowly. “All right. Let’s try it.”

They move back into position and then start the song over form the beginning. Frank sings through the first verse, then plays through the chorus, and when it’s time for the second verse, everyone seems to kick it up a notch. The backing is stronger, and Frank’s voice is somehow even more raw and heartbreaking. It’s hard for Gerard to listen to, but he couldn’t stop if he tried.

“Heroine slow, heroine slow…” Frank repeats, and each time he does, it digs deep into Gerard’s chest. “I know that this day is worth it in every single breath I take in.” The second verse ends, and Frank pours himself into his guitar part. They play through what they already have established as the instrumental chorus, but it’s even stronger now. Shaun begins improvising on the keyboards, and it all comes together so beautifully that Gerard wants to cry. They repeat it a few more times, building on what they have and making it so much more. Gerard is nearly falling off the edge of his seat by the time they wrap it up, and he quickly stands when the last note dies out.

Frank turns to him immediately, a huge smile plastered on his face. “So? What’d you think?”

Gerard feels his mouth shift to an equally large grin. “It was fucking amazing. That was fucking _amazing_ , you guys.” He hopes they don’t mind him giving his opinion on their music, but Frank asked, and he’s not about to hide how great he thought the song was.

“It was…” Tim trails off. He gives a short laugh. “It was pretty damn good.”

“It was great,” John agrees, and Neil nods with him. Frank’s beams as Shaun does the same.

“You guys should play it at the show.” Gerard really hopes he isn’t overstepping by saying this, but he can’t help himself. “It would be awesome to hear it played in a big venue. And people would go nuts for a new song.”

Frank’s eyes shine, and his smile grows impossibly wider. Gerard's stomach flips as he looks at Frank, and he decides he’ll gladly give his two cents any time if it makes Frank look at him like this.

“I dunno,” Tim says, killing the mood. “It still needs work.”

“Well, we’ll _work_ on it, then.” John sounds just about done with Tim’s attitude, and Gerard has to agree with him.

“Fine,” Tim relents. “Was there anything else we needed to do?”

Shaun shakes his head and looks between the others. “Don’t think so. I just wanted to nail down the keys on some of the stuff we already played, so we’re good on my end.”

“Everything was smooth. We’ll do Heroine the next few practices and it’ll shape up,” John says.

Frank giggles and he’s standing so close to Gerard that he can feel the vibrations of it run up and down his side.

“Cool ‘cause I gotta go,” Tim says, getting up from his stool.

Neil unplugs his guitar and sets it down on one of the racks. “Me too. Catch you guys later.”

The two of them file out, John following soon after once he’s said goodbye to the rest of them.

“Sorry we didn’t get to jam at all,” Shaun says to Gerard as Frank puts his guitar away.

Gerard shrugs. “No biggie. I’m just happy to be invited.”

Shaun gives him one of his warm, genuine smiles. “Any time, dude.”

Frank returns then, looking excited even though all that’s left for them to do is go back home. And possibly back to bed. And yeah, Gerard can understand why Frank might be excited right now. “Ready to go?” he asks eagerly.

Gerard chuckles. “Yeah, come on.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a line in here about Frank's mouth that comes from a fic by my buddy Redbranch called [This Time I Mean It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031765/chapters/24587751) which I highly recommend if you're interested in what our boys are up to today!
> 
> Btw I changed my username from vicious_venom because i was tired of having the underscore but it's still me!

In the week leading up to their show, Frank and Gerard don’t see each other. They try their hardest, but with Frank’s final exams and My Chem’s intense practice sessions (a habit they picked up from Pencey), they just can’t find the time. They settle for talking on the phone every night, often one or both of them falling asleep before they hang up. Gerard doesn’t mind when, after going on a tangent about super heroes or the artistic beauty in gore, the only response he gets is Frank’s deep, even breaths, and he hopes Frank feels the same way. Once, he woke up the day after one of their late-night talks and the call was still going, Frank just waking up on the other end and immediately launching into a rant about how much he hates his Business Ethics professor for setting the due date for their final essay on a Saturday. Gerard was more than happy to groan and agree in the appropriate places, and it was nice to enjoy some conversation with his morning (or rather, afternoon) coffee.

But it’s not enough.

By the night of the show, Gerard is itching for contact. He hasn’t gone this long without kissing or fucking or cuddling or _anything_ with Frank since they started seeing each other regularly, and he can’t believe he lasted all that time apart before. He’s so worked up about finally getting to see Frank, and not just that, but to see Frank on _stage_ , that he almost forgets to be nervous about his own performance. Almost.

He goes through his usual struggle over that night’s wardrobe, and, also as usual, Mikey pulls him through it while only making fun of him a little bit. They’d put Gerard’s latest designs to good use, and now he’s wearing a shirt that reads “THANK YOU FOR THE VENOM” across the chest in simple, white print. He’s proud of the slogan, feeling that it fits the band’s vibe well.

After packing up the car with everything they need, Mikey offers to drive them to the venue, and Gerard is all too happy to accept as he thinks he’s maybe a bit too jittery with nerves to drive at the moment. They ride in silence for a while, Gerard thinking about how good Frank will look no matter what he’s got on and second guessing his own simple jeans and t-shirt. He's pretty sure he hasn't given any outward indication of what he’s thinking, but Mikey breaks the silence when he says, “He’s not going to care what you’re wearing, Gee.”

Gerard nods. “Yeah, I know.”

“He probably won’t even let you keep your clothes on long enough to read your shirt,” Mikey teases while poking Gerard in the side.

“Shut up!” Gerard smacks Mikey’s hand away. “We _can_ keep it our pants, you know.”

Mikey giggles. “Sure,” he says as he pulls up outside the club and the two of them start unloading equipment and instruments. Ray spots them as he finds a place to park and helps them empty the car, and then they make their way to the front door.

When they step inside, Gerard nearly drops Mikey’s bass. _This_ , he thinks as he stares at the stage directly across from him, _cannot fucking be real_. He’s caught between being terrified of stepping foot up there, and itching to see how he can use the space to his advantage while they perform. There’s hardly anyone here as the venue isn’t open to the public yet, but as Gerard scans the open floor in front of him he pictures a raging crowd pressing themselves as close to the stage as they can get. He knows it’s not going to happen, not tonight. But maybe someday they’ll play to a crowd that’ll make a room this big feel like it’s the size of a matchbox.

“I’ll take that,” Matt says, and plucks the bass from Gerard’s grip. “You just keep on having your moment, Princess.”

“Fuck off,” Gerard says, but he’s smiling. He will have his moment all fucking night if that’s what it takes for him to get used to this.

He turns his gaze back to the stage as Matt walks away, blinks when he finds it looks even bigger than it did a second ago. _‘No more basement parties for you.’ Hell fucking yeah_.

As if on cue, a warm hand wraps around his forearm and a voice says in his ear, “Taking it all in?”

Gerard smiles and leans into Frank’s touch. “It’s a lot to absorb.”

“Yeah,” Frank says softly. Gerard can feel Frank’s gaze on him and he turns to meet it.

Gerard’s eyes go wide at Frank’s tight t-shirt that grips his biceps, and then he notices the slice of skin peeking out between the shirt and his low-slung jeans, and his eyes go a bit heavy-lidded instead. Frank’s hips are just visible above the denim, and Gerard wants nothing more than to grab them and pin Frank to the fucking wall. When he looks up at Frank’s face again, it seems that Frank is preoccupied with undressing Gerard with his eyes, and Gerard starts to think maybe Mikey was right. When their eyes meet, everything stops for a moment. Gerard holds his breath.

Then, Frank takes a step forward and his grip on Gerard’s forearm tightens. He pushes up on his toes to talk in Gerard’s ear again. “You should drag me into the bathroom over there” – he nods his head to his left where Gerard can see a door marked ‘MEN’ – “and fuck my mouth until your stage call.”

Gerard shivers and hears himself growl, though he doesn’t mean to. Suddenly, he’s wrenching his arm out of Frank’s grip and wrapping it possessively around Frank’s waist. Frank gasps and then giggles as he’s directed to the bathroom. Gerard throws a look around the room to make sure no one is paying attention to them, but he doesn’t think they would stop even if someone was.

They reach the bathroom door and Gerard hip checks it so he can haul Frank across the threshold without taking his hands off Frank’s body. Frank pushes open one of the stalls and they stumble inside, locking the door behind them, and Gerard immediately presses Frank up against the wall and catches Frank’s lips with his own. They open their mouths for each other almost instantly, kissing like they’ve been apart for months rather than just a week. Frank threads his hands in Gerard’s hair and pulls mercilessly, and Gerard tightens his grip on Frank’s hips so he’s sure to leave bruises.

Gerard grinds against Frank, who moans into his mouth. Gerard is already hard as a rock, and he can feel Frank right there with him. Frank gives one last pull to Gerard’s hair before extracting his hands and then working them between their bodies, going at Gerard’s fly.

Frank pulls his mouth away from Gerard’s to look down at what he’s doing and say, “Need you. Right now. Need your cock, fuck.” He finally gets Gerard unzipped and unbuttoned. Gerard sighs with relief as Frank pulls his cock free of the confines of his tight jeans, and he leans his forehead against Frank’s as Frank strokes him.

“Fuck, Frankie. Missed you.” He kisses Frank’s forehead in what he realizes is an oddly tender gesture for the moment, especially when he moans as Frank presses his thumb into the head of his cock. “Shit.”

Frank chuckles and then starts sliding down the wall, pushing Gerard back so he can settle on his knees between Gerard’s legs. “I meant it. Fuck my mouth, Gee.” He punctuates his request by licking a stripe from the base of Gerard’s cock to the head. “Use me.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Gerard leans forward and places his hands on the wall in front of him, planting his feet on either side of Frank. Frank opens his mouth and immediately slides down to the hilt, swallowing around Gerard and making him let out a guttural moan. “ _Shit_ , Frank.”

Frank moans around Gerard’s cock before pulling off until just the head is in his mouth. He slides his hands up Gerard’s legs, pausing at the back of his thighs and pulling them towards himself. Gerard nods, understanding, and thrusts tentatively into Frank’s mouth. He doesn’t doubt Frank’s cock sucking abilities, not by a long shot, but he knows Frank often throws himself into things he’s night quite ready for. This, however, is not one of those times. Frank relaxes his throat and pulls Gerard to him more forcefully, and Gerard finally gets the message. He thrusts into the wet heat of Frank’s mouth fast and hard, his own mouth dropping open as he watches Frank just _take_ it. Frank looks up at him with wide, lustful eyes, and hollows out his cheeks.

It takes everything Gerard has not to come right then and there. But Frank wanted him to keep his mouth occupied until stage call, which isn’t for a while yet. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give Frank what he wants. He presses his palms harder into the wall and shifts his hips for better leverage. He pulls back, ready to thrust in deep and hard, when suddenly the bathroom door swings open.

“Gee? You in here?” Ray asks as he steps into the room.

Gerard’s eyes go wide with panic and he looks down at Frank, who’s taken his mouth off Gerard’s cock and is looking up at him with an equally surprised expression.

“Yeah! I’ll be out in a minute,” Gerard calls back.

“You okay?” Ray takes another step towards the stall, and Gerard worries he’ll notice the multiple pairs of feet under it if he gets any closer.

“I’m fine just–” Gerard cuts himself off with a sharp inhale as Frank leans in and slides his mouth back onto the head of Gerard’s cock. Gerard’s eyes dart back down to Frank’s face, where he sees Frank smirk and then sink down again. “It’s just nerves,” he finishes, trying to keep his voice even.

“Are you sure? I can get Mikey–”

“No! That’s okay.” He hopes Ray can’t hear how hard he’s breathing, or the little squeaks he’s letting out as Frank swirls his tongue.

“All right. If you’re sure.” Ray hesitates, and Gerard realizes he’s looking for a response.

“Mmm hmm. All good.” Gerard squeezes his eyes shut, blocking the gorgeous view of Frank’s face. He feels Frank smile around his cock and then take him deeper, the bastard.

“Stage call in ten minutes. Don’t be late.”

Gerard hears Ray move back towards the door, and he yells “Got it!” before the door swings shut and then Ray is finally gone. Gerard lets out a frustrated growl he’s been barely keeping in and slams his hands against the wall in front of him.

Frank moans and wraps his hands tighter around the back of Gerard’s thighs, encouraging him to pick up the pace again. Gerard tries to hold back, but he can’t, not with the excitement from the way Frank was teasing him. He thrusts forward once, twice, three times before he cries out and comes down Frank’s throat. Frank closes his eyes and hollows out is cheeks, sucking until Gerard is too sensitive and pulls back.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,” Gerard repeats as he zips his pants back up and Frank rises from the floor. Frank flashes him one of those gleaming smiles, and Gerard wipes it clean off Frank’s face when he leans in for a deep kiss, tasting himself on Frank’s tongue. “You know how good you look with a cock in your mouth, Frankie?” he says when they part. “You were fucking made for it.”

“Good to know,” Frank says teasingly and leans in to kiss Gerard again. He whimpers when Gerard cups his cock through his jeans. “Fuck, Gee.”

“God, you’re so hard.” Gerard presses the heel of his hand into the denim for a few more moments, letting Frank get just a little more worked up. He catches every desperate sound that spills from Frank’s mouth and leaves light kisses over his temple as he finally moves to unzip Frank’s pants. He slides his hand down into Frank’s boxers as soon as there’s room, and Frank gasps when Gerard tightly grips his cock. Frank is wet and leaking pre-come, making it easy for Gerard to spread it around and create a slick slide along Frank’s dick. Frank’s hands move up to Gerard’s shoulders and he digs in with his fingers as Gerard quickens his pace.

“Fuck, Gee, I’m not gonna last. Too fuckin’ hot.” Frank is breathing hard with his mouth so close to Gerard’s that Gerard is nearly swallowing each breath. He closes his eyes and Gerard sees the emotions pass over his face as he chases his orgasm. Frank’s fingers grip him impossibly tighter, and Gerard watches as Frank comes undone, spilling come all over Gerard’s hand and his boxers.

Frank is still trying to catch his breath when the bathroom door swings open again. “Iero! I know you’re in here, you little shit.” A thick pair of boots come to stand directly outside the stall door. “I don’t care who you’ve got in there with you, get your ass out here. Band meeting.”

“Fuck off, Hambone,” Frank says, but he doesn’t have the energy to give it much bite.

Gerard swallows hard. He wasn’t exactly ecstatic about the idea of Ray finding him and Frank in here, but he at least knows that if Ray had caught them, he would have only been surprised and maybe a bit embarrassed. With John, Gerard truly has no idea how he’d react to them being together let alone fucking in a public bathroom before a show. And there’s no way for Frank to leave the stall without John seeing that Gerard is in here with him.

Outside, John begins tapping his foot. “Move it along, Frankie.”

Frank sighs. “Okay, fine.” He pushes away from Gerard and zips up his pants, looking a little defeated. It’s not something Gerard ever wants to see on Frank, let alone right after they’ve given each other orgasms. “Sorry,” Frank says softly, and Gerard knows it’s only for him.

Frank unlocks the door and slowly pushes it open. He brushes by John without saying anything, and John’s eyes go wide when he sees Gerard standing inside the stall. Gerard rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and looks away. He tries to sidle past John, but John stops him with a hand to Gerard’s chest.

John narrows his eyes and says, “You better not be messing with him.”

“I’m not,” Gerard says honestly. “We’re– We’ve been together a while.”

John nods, and retracts his hand. He moves his body to the side to allow Gerard to pass. “If you hurt him,” John says when Gerard reaches the bathroom door, and Gerard pauses, “you’ll pay.”

“I won’t,” Gerard says. He shakes off the encounter as he steps through the door and out into the club, now beginning to fill with employees getting everything ready before the show. _Could’ve been a lot worse_ , he rationalizes, and heads backstage to find his band.

He helps them do the last of the setting up, thankful he doesn’t have an instrument to maintain, though he should probably warm up his voice. Not that he really knows how to do that properly. Not that he knows how to do _any_ of this properly.

Ray keeps throwing him sidelong glances, looking like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to bring it up. “Are you okay?” he asks finally, holding Gerard’s arm loosely.

“Yeah, ‘m good,” Gerard says with a smile he guesses is not all that convincing, but Ray nods and lets him be.

They run through soundcheck without any big problems, which Gerard learns is unusual. It’s the first real soundcheck they’ve had, the first one to happen _before_ the audience gets there, and so it’s the first one Gerard’s been present for. It’s kind of nice, playing on such a big stage for an empty room.

He doesn’t see Frank before they have to go on. He asked around, but a tech told him Pencey’s meeting was still going, and they didn’t look like they wanted to be interrupted. The venue fills with sound as doors open and the crowd slowly trickles in. Gerard waits backstage, chatting with the guys about nothing in particular until someone tells them they have two minutes until they go on. They line up, high fiving and shaking out pre-show nerves, and then it’s time.

The stage lights – _actual stage lights, Jesus fuck_ – greet Gerard as he steps onto the stage after Ray, Mikey, and Matt have all already made their entrances. As he takes his place at the mic, giving a “How’s everybody doing tonight?” to the crowd and receiving a modest response, he notices he can only see the people in the front row, and the rest of the room is almost totally dark. But from what he can tell, people are excited, even though it’s Pencey they’re here for.

They kick off with Vampires Will Never Hurt You and Gerard decides to take advantage of the amount of space they have on the large club stage and move around a little more than usual. This is probably the soberest he’s been during any of their shows, having only scored a few beers here and there throughout set up. To his surprise, he actually feels pretty good about it. For once, he can get his eyes to focus on the crowd and see the control he has over the audience – or at least those in the front – when he does a call and response bit or tells them to go wild in the pit.

Someone actually starts crowd surfing during This is the Best Day Ever, which is both completely awesome and deeply terrifying, and Gerard takes a moment when the song ends to remind everyone to stay safe in the pit. “You know what’s punk rock?” he says, and he can tell that the crowd is paying attention. “Helping people up when they fall in the pit, that’s punk rock. That’s punk rock as _fuck_.” A cheer erupts from the mass of people at his feet, and Gerard knows he’ll be chasing this feeling for the rest of his life.

He casts glances around him as they kick into Skylines and Turnstiles, smiles wide at his bandmates, who all grin back at him. He turns back to the audience and sings, “You’re not in this alone.” He hopes they believe it as much as he does.

~

“You were so fucking incredible up there,” Frank says as he slams Gerard against the brick wall of the club. They’re in the alleyway outside between sets, and Frank should really be inside getting ready to go onstage, but apparently he couldn’t keep it in his pants for a few more hours until the show is done – not that Gerard is complaining.

Frank latches his mouth onto Gerard’s neck and Gerard groans and tilts his head back. He realizes he’s still holding the cigarette he was trying to smoke before Frank accosted him and dragged him back here, and he drops it onto the concrete as Frank pushes his hands under Gerard’s shirt. Gerard clutches Frank’s sides and lets him do as he pleases, just basks in the fact that he has a boyfriend who can’t keep his hands to himself.

 _Boyfriend,_ Gerard thinks. _Huh_. They haven’t used that word yet; they haven’t really needed to explain their relationship to anyone so far. Gerard’s parents seemed to understand what was going on as soon as he’d said, “I’m seeing someone,” and hopefully no one else knows about them, besides Shaun and Mikey (and maybe John), and Gerard’s decided to trust them with that knowledge.

Frank moves his mouth up to meet Gerard’s, and Gerard closes his eyes as he gives into the kiss. It’s surprisingly slow and sweet, lacking the urgency that Frank had given off since they met outside.

“I can feel your gears turning,” Frank says when they part. His expression is kind, searching. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” Gerard says, and Frank smiles softly. “I–” he starts, but cuts himself off and looks away when he starts to feel embarrassed about what he was about to confess.

Frank swipes his thumb over Gerard’s cheekbone. “Yeah, babe?”

Gerard meets Frank’s gaze again and sees the openness in his expression. “I just– It’s so stupid, but we haven’t… I’m your boyfriend, right?” Gerard’s cheeks heat up, but he doesn’t let himself look away.

Frank cracks a smile, but it’s not mean or mocking. “I would be worried if you weren’t.” He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the side of Gerard’s mouth. “Your _boyfriend_ has to go back inside, but don’t forget about me while I’m gone.” His smile turns mischievous as he reaches down and deftly flicks the button open on Gerard’s fly.

Gerard is still reeling when he realizes Frank has left him leaning against the brick wall. _He’s gonna be the death of me_ , he thinks, and then smiles to himself. _What a lovely way to go_.

~

Frank, as expected, is amazing on stage. If Gerard thought the way he had commanded the audience was something, it doesn’t hold a flame to how Frank gets the crowd moving and screaming. Being a part of Pencey’s show is an incredibly high honor, and Gerard is more than thankful for it, but as he watches Frank pace back and forth across the stage, yelling into the mic and chugging along on his guitar, he can’t help thinking that he wants more. What he wants, what he knows he can’t have, is to perform _with_ Frank, to play _together_. He knows it won’t happen, and he tries to push it to the back of his mind as he moves with the raging bodies in the pit.

After a while, he makes his way to the front of the crowd, where people are taking refuge from the violent mosh pit behind them and trying to press themselves as close to the stage as they can. In the time that he hasn’t spent with Frank, he’s managed to listen to Heartbreak in Stereo about seventeen billion times, and by now he’s memorized every one of their songs. So, he grins and sings along with Frank, who’s pacing back and forth across the stage restlessly with his mic in hand. Just before the chorus, Frank returns the mic to its stand and grips his guitar, gearing up to play the riffs the next part calls for. Gerard watches as Frank’s eyes scan the fervent crowd in front of him, and then they fall on Gerard, who’s directly in front of him a few rows back. Frank smiles, and launches into the chorus, watching Gerard sing along with all he’s got.

He stays there for the remainder of Pencey’s set, enamored with Frank’s stage presence. It feels like if he looks away for even an instant, he’ll miss something important. So, he stays at the front and tries not to blink.

Before he knows it, the show is over. Pencey finishes the encore and leaves the stage without playing the new song, which Gerard is a little disappointed about. He figures the lengthy band meeting earlier probably had something to do with it, and wonders how Frank must have felt about the decision as he makes his way backstage as quickly as he can. He wades through the sea of people and waves at a security guard who recognizes him before spotting Frank.

“Come home with me,” Frank says the instant Gerard greets him. He hasn’t even set down his guitar, and his bandmates are standing behind him, looking like they want to talk. Frank either doesn’t notice or just plain ignores them, and steps forward so he can grip Gerard’s forearm. “Please, Gee.”

Gerard realizes he’s frowning, and quickly softens his face for Frank. “Of course, Frankie.” _I don’t want to be anywhere else_ , he finishes in his head.

Frank smiles and nods, letting go of Gerard and turning around. He talks to his bandmates for a few minutes while Gerard waits awkwardly near the backstage exit. Finally, Frank turns away and Gerard watches him grab his stuff, locking his guitar away in its case and slipping on a hoodie, and then head to where Gerard is waiting for him. Frank is scowling, but he brightens when he sees Gerard.

“Ready?” Gerard asks.

Frank slips his hand into one of Gerard’s. “Ready.”

~

“I have to tell you something,” Frank says after they’re lying in bed having come down from their orgasms, and something in the way he says it makes Gerard’s stomach drop. “Don’t freak out.”

“Okay,” Gerard says, but he can already feel the coils of an anxiety attack digging into him, and he doesn’t even know what this _is_ yet. _Calm the fuck down, Jesus Christ_ , he chastises himself. He pulls Frank closer to his bare chest and skims the tips of his fingers up and down Frank’s back.

“We’re going on tour.” Frank’s voice breaks a little when he says it, and Gerard wonders why he’s not over the moon about this.

“That’s awesome,” Gerard says, and presses a kiss to the top of Frank’s head. “I’m so happy for you guys. You deserve it.”

“Gee.” Frank sighs and pushes up onto one elbow so he can look at Gerard. “I’ll be in the Midwest for three weeks.”

Gerard’s face falls and he wonders how he could have been so stupid as to not immediately realize what “tour” means. Being away from Frank, that’s what it means. Being unhappy. Being alone. “Oh,” is all he can manage in response.

Frank sighs again, sad and slow. “I know. I don’t even really want to go. Fuck.” He collapses back onto the bed beside Gerard, leaning his head against Gerard’s shoulder. “I should _want_ to go on tour with my band. We’ve been working towards this for so fucking long. And now we’ve got it. But, _fuck_ , I don’t want that anymore. Not with them. Not the way things are going.”

Gerard stays silent, hoping Frank will take it as a sign that he’s listening, and not that he doesn’t want to hear what Frank has to say.

Frank, as usual, interprets Gerard perfectly and keeps going. “I just… I know it’s going to fucking suck. We’re gonna be in a van, playing shows for, like, five kids who don’t even know our songs, and no one’s gonna get along. I hate it, being with them all the time. I fucking hate it.” He pauses, and then says, “I used to love them. I do love them, so much. But not when we’re together as a band.”

“I’m so sorry, Frankie.” He means it. Frank doesn’t talk about Pencey’s internal issues often, but Gerard knows it’s something that deeply bothers him. “I wish I could help.”

Frank laughs a little and takes one of Gerard’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “You can’t help everyone, Gee.”

Gerard brings their hands up to his mouth and kisses Frank’s knuckles. “Yeah, but I can try.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty short especially after those marathon-length ones. But it's holiday themed!
> 
> In case you missed it, I changed my user name from vicious_venom because I was tired of having the underscore, so I'm ViciousVenin now. Woo!
> 
> Also, just a reminder that this fic has nothing to do with real life. Real Frank Iero's parents are cool, but this story is about Fake Frank Iero and his parents are not so cool.

There’s some ridiculous new cartoon on TV and Gerard watches it with glazed eyes as he shovels Lucky Charms into his mouth. The tree stands beside the TV, the lights glowing and the mound of presents underneath inviting him to shake them like he did when he was a kid. He won’t, he’s too old for that. But he’s pretty sure Mikey got him a set of fancy acrylics he’d mentioned he wants, and he’d love to start using them now instead of waiting until tomorrow…

“Don’t even think about it,” Mikey says as he plops down on the couch next to Gerard with his own bowl of cereal.

“About what?” Gerard asks, though he’s sure Mikey knows exactly what was on his mind.

Mikey doesn’t even bother to clarify, and instead asks, “What’s Frank doing for Christmas?”

Gerard is surprised to find he hadn’t even really thought about it. He’d bought Frank a present and planned to give it to him whenever they saw each other next, but he figured that wouldn’t be for a few days or so once the chaos of the holidays dies down. It kind of sucks, because Gerard knows they only have about a week left before Frank leaves on tour, but he didn’t want to intrude on whatever Frank has planned for the holiday. “Uh, I dunno. Probably spending time with his family? He didn’t say anything so I just figured…”

“Huh.” Mikey swallows a spoonful of cereal. “Maybe you should ask him.”

Gerard doesn’t even bother to question Mikey’s advice anymore. “Yeah. Okay.”

Later, in the privacy of his basement, Gerard gives Frank a call. Frank picks up on the second ring with an excited “Hey!” and Gerard smiles on reflex at the sound of Frank’s voice.

“Hey, you,” Gerard says teasingly, and then remembers what he’s about to ask, and he tries to remain conversational but truly fails at stringing a coherent sentence together. “So, I was just wondering– I mean, I know you’re probably busy and all but I just wanted to make sure and not, like, _assume_ anything or whatever because that would be–”

Frank cuts him off with a laugh that makes Gerard forget to be worried. “What are you trying to say, you weirdo?”

“I just–” He takes a deep breath, and then rushes out with, “What are you doing for Christmas?”

Frank pauses, his laughter dying out. “Um. Not much, I guess.”

It’s not the answer Gerard expected, even with Mikey’s psychic hunch. He chuckles nervously and says, “Nothing? No dinner with the family or anything like that?”

There’s another pause where Gerard starts to worry he’s said the wrong thing, and then he’s completely proven right when Frank says, “No. Haven’t been invited to one of those in a while.” Frank’s voice has turned tense, and it conveys something Gerard wishes Frank would never have to feel: loneliness.

Gerard immediately jumps to try to fix the situation. “Fuck, Frankie, I’m s–”

“I don’t really want any pity,” Frank bites, and now his anger is directed at Gerard.

“No, yeah, of course. I just didn’t know. Which is fine, you don’t have to tell me everything, but I wish it wasn’t like that for you and I wish there was something I could do about it.”

Frank lets out a long sigh, and when he speaks he doesn’t sound angry anymore, just tired. “Fuck, I feel like shit for snapping. Sorry.” Gerard tries to tell him it’s all right, but Frank keeps going. “Just– I’m fine. Really. You don’t have to worry about me, I’ve been on my own for a while.”

“You don’t have to be alone, you know.” Gerard pauses, in case Frank wants to say something, but he doesn’t argue, in fact his silence seems a little stunned. “Come to my place for dinner,” Gerard finishes.

“Are you sure?” Frank asks, his voice tentative and maybe a bit hopeful, if Gerard’s not mistaken.

“Totally. Everyone here loves you, Frankie,” he says, and hopes it’s enough that he’s including himself as part of the ‘everyone’ instead of saying it outright.

“I– Okay. I’ll be there.”

Gerard’s spirits lift. “Great.”

Frank is silent for a beat, and then he says, “Thank you, Gee.” The sincerity in his voice makes Gerard’s heart ache a little.

“Don’t mention it,” Gerard says softly.

“See you at dinner, then.” Frank’s voice sounds lighter now, excited even.

“Yeah, see you at dinner.” As he hangs up, a grin spreads across his face.

~

The doorbell rings, and Gerard quickly yells, “I’ll get it!” before practically sprinting to the front door. He swings it open and is not at all disappointed when he finds Frank standing on the other side, toting a couple of poorly-wrapped presents.

Frank is smiling wider than Gerard would’ve though possible, and he would seem perfectly content if he weren’t shivering from the cold wearing nothing but a hoodie over his worn jeans.

Gerard smiles back and says, “Come inside, you crazy bastard,” even though it’s not as if he does much better with dressing for the weather.

Frank steps inside, wiping the snow off his converse on the door mat. “I fucking love the snow, dude. You don’t even know,” he says.

Gerard chuckles as he closes the door behind him and turns around to face Frank. “Yeah, seems like you want as few layers between you and the elements as possible.”

Frank looks at him and flashes a charming grin. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Gerard takes Frank’s presents and puts them under the tree, and definitely does _not_ shake the one that’s for him. His mom is just getting the places set for dinner when they walk into the kitchen, the warmth of the oven and the almost overwhelming smell of food hitting them hard. Frank immediately jumps to help Donna with setting the table. Gerard helps too, and listens to Frank talk to his mother as they work about anything she brings up. He latches onto everything she says, seeming genuinely interested in topics like collectible porcelain dolls and the qualities of various hair products.

Finally, Elena, Mikey, and Don join them at the table having finished watching some Christmas special or another. They sit down, Frank between Gerard and Elena, and Gerard can’t help noticing just how _happy_ Frank seems. Throughout dinner no one asks Frank why he’s here and not anywhere else, thank God, though he does get a few comments from Don about his new eyebrow ring and the foolishness of wearing ripped jeans in the dead of winter.

After dinner is over and the leftovers boxed away, they relocate to the living room to exchange presents. Frank insists on giving his first, and promptly hands gifts to Elena, Mikey, and Gerard, and a joint present to their parents. Mikey cracks a smile when he unwraps the grey knit beanie and puts it on his head immediately. Elena receives a box of assorted scented candles, which Gerard thinks is an excellent grandmother gift, but also one he would not be disappointed to receive himself. His parents get a fancy wine bottle opener and cork set, and Gerard honestly can’t believe how well Frank nailed his family’s gifts.

Frank smiles eagerly as Gerard tears off the mismatched wrapping paper on his own gift and slowly reveals a box set of all the classic monster movies on DVD. His mouth falls open and his eyes go wide. “Wolf Man?” he says excitedly. He looks up at Frank, who smiles wider and nods. “Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

Frank laughs. “They’re all there, Gee.”

“I… Thank you, Frankie, this is fucking amazing.” He gapes at his present for a few more moments before throwing any pride he may have had out the window and clutching the box to his chest. Frank and his family laugh at him good-naturedly until he eventually releases the box and places it on the coffee table.

It’s at this moment that Gerard realizes his present for Frank is completely and totally fucking inadequate. He gets up and plucks it from under the tree, blushing as he hands it over to Frank.

He knows it’s cliché, but Frank’s face truly does light up brighter than the tree when he opens the comic store gift card.

 Gerard is pretty sure that means Frank is happy with it, but he jumps to explain his reasoning for the gift anyway. “I just figured, you know, you don’t need me picking out every book. Though I’m happy to help if you want–”

Frank cuts him off with a kiss, in front of Gerard’s whole family, in front of his _grandmother_ , but he can’t say he really gives a shit. He wraps his arms around Frank’s middle and gives in to the kiss.

“Thank you, Gee,” Frank says when they part.

“Of course. Merry Christmas, Frankie.”

Don clears his throat, and they slide apart, but stay close to one another throughout the night. The six of them watch the rest of Charlie Brown Christmas, Mikey and Gerard occasionally quoting the lines as their parents put their new wine bottle opener to use. Sometime during the movie, Frank rests his cheek on Gerard’s shoulder and winds their hands together. Gerard looks down at him as Frank looks up, and they smile to each other. For a moment, it feels like they’re the only ones in the room.

“I hope you know you’re watching every single one of those movies with me,” Frank says.

Gerard’s grin widens. “I was counting on it.”

~

They spend the next week working their way through all thirty films in the box set, only occasionally leaving Gerard’s basement for food or Frank’s band practices, and before they know it, it’s New Year’s Eve. Frank’s spending this holiday with Gerard and his family too, but this time all it took was a lazy “Wanna stay over again tonight?” when they woke up earlier that morning to set their plans for the evening.

Don suggests going into the City to watch the ball drop, and Mikey mentions that Ray would probably go with them if they did, so later that afternoon, Frank, Gerard, and his family (minus Elena who’s generally asleep by nine anyway) make the drive across the water. It’s a little more frustrating than Gerard would’ve liked, but they make it to the City in one piece, finding parking after looking for nearly an hour and then picking a spot in Times Square to wait.

Ray meets them some time later, bringing with him an arsenal of scarves which he hands out to offer some more protection from the brutal New York winter. He stands in between Mikey and Gerard, Frank cozied up to Gerard on his other side. Frank seems to have lost some of his affinity for the cold as he’s now shivering and chattering his teeth in Gerard’s ear, even after bundling up with three of Ray’s scarves.

“C-can’t f-f-feel ma-my f-f-f-f-f-” Frank tries to say.

“You okay, Frankie?” Gerard asks with genuine worry.

“Feet!” Frank finally gets out. “Can’t f-feel ‘em.”

Gerard wraps an arm around Frank’s shoulders and rubs his hand vigorously along Frank’s arm as he pulls him in. “I think maybe we should get you inside somewhere.”

“N-no,” Frank says, shaking his head. “The sh-show’s gonna st-st-start soon.”

Mikey leans forward to look at Frank. “You’re gonna freeze to death out here, Frank,” he says, and then goes right back to chatting with Ray, neither of them seeming all that bothered about their friend’s impending death from exposure.

“Come on,” Gerard says. “Let’s just go get you warmed up and we can still be back here before the exciting stuff.”

Frank looks skeptical at first, but finally agrees, and the two of them head off in search of a warmer spot. They find a Starbucks about a block down, but as soon as they step inside they’re informed that the café is closing in five minutes. They continue down the street, Frank still shivering violently against Gerard who practically has to drag him along because of his numb feet.

Finally, they find a group of people huddled around a small outdoor heater, and they get as close to the heat as they can. Gerard pushes Frank in front of him as a spot opens up and Frank sighs with relief.

“Oh, th-thank _God_ ,” Frank says as he holds his hands so close to the metal grate of the heater he’d burn himself if he moved a centimeter.

After they’ve been standing there a while, Gerard notices he can hear music playing, the first of many acts to go on before the ball drops. Frank looks like he’s having far too good a time to be disturbed, so Gerard lets him be. They stand at the heater long enough that some of the people around them get annoyed, and Gerard thinks maybe it’s time to go, especially now that he can’t hear anything other than the cheering crowds which means they must be nearing the count down. Gerard tugs Frank away from the heater, who whines in response but is no longer shivering, so Gerard figures he’s okay.

They walk back towards Time Square until they can see the count down clock, and that’s when they realize they only have a little under five minutes until the clock strikes twelve.

“Come on!” Gerard says as he takes Frank’s hand. He pulls Frank through the excited crowds, trying to find the place his family and Ray are stationed at. They walk what seems like twice as far as they did before, but still Gerard can’t see them. The clock is ticking down, only at forty-five seconds left now.

Frank suddenly stops, tugging on Gerard’s hand, and Gerard whirls around. “What?” Gerard asks.

“Let’s just watch from here, Gee,” Frank says, gesturing to the huge screen displaying the count down.

Gerard takes one last look around for the others, and gives up when he doesn’t spot them. “Okay,” he says to Frank, and moves to stand next to him.

They watch the clock slowly tick down, Frank’s grip on Gerard’s hand growing tighter as the seconds disappear. Gerard glances over to see Frank looking at him, rather than the screen.

“What is it?” Gerard yells over the mass of people counting down from ten.

Frank just keeps staring at him with an unreadable expression. _Seven! Six! Five!_ Frank opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then closes it and glances quickly at the count down. _Three! Two!_ He looks back at Gerard and suddenly moves in, cupping Gerard’s face gently with one hand and squeezing Gerard’s fingers with the other. _One!_ Frank kisses Gerard, and the screaming crowds seem miles away.

Gerard catches Frank’s lower lip between his own and kisses back as softly and sweetly as he knows how. As far as Gerard’s concerned, the earth stops turning, time stops moving, it’s still one second before the new year rings in. The entire world around them doesn’t matter, doesn’t even exist. Frank sighs against Gerard’s lips, lightly stroking his thumb over the swell of Gerard’s cheekbone.

After what feels like a lifetime, they pull apart. The world comes rushing back to Gerard like he’s been under water and is only just now breaking the surface. Frank is smiling at him, their faces still close and Frank’s hand still resting on his cheek.

“Happy New Year,” Gerard says quietly, and the throngs of people around them are screaming so loud it almost gets lost.

Frank hears him, though. Gerard can tell by the way his eyes shine and he says, “2002 is your year, Gee. You’re gonna do great fucking things this year, I can feel it.”

“We,” Gerard says. Frank gives him a confused look. “ _We’re_ gonna do great things, Frankie. 2002 is _ours_.”

Frank laughs and pulls Gerard in for a hug, nestling his face into the crook of Gerard’s neck. Gerard holds him close. In Frank’s ear he says, “We’re both meant for something better, Frank, and this year we’re gonna prove it.”


	15. Chapter 15

The night before Frank leaves on tour with Pencey, they go all out.

Gerard takes Frank out to dinner, nothing fancy, just Olive Garden, but Frank is still over the moon about it. When they pull up out front and Frank realizes where they are, the location having been a mystery to him until now, he looks over at Gerard with a wide, excited grin. “Breadsticks?”

Gerard grins back. “All you can eat.”

They go in and get a table, and Frank immediately starts chatting away, Gerard listening intently. It’s always a surprise to him just so much he and Frank have to talk about; after weeks and weeks of spending every spare moment together, he’d have thought they would have run out of subjects by now. But even when they’re hanging out in Gerard’s basement, quietly working through whatever it is that holds their attention, Gerard knows that they could launch into a new topic at any given moment. If they wanted to, they could never _stop_ talking.

Now, here, on their first _real_ date, Gerard listens closely to Frank talk about different types of guitars, which kind he’s saving up for, what his dream model is. And Gerard feels like he could never grow tired of hearing Frank talk, even about things he had no knowledge of and, if he’s being honest, no interest in before he met Frank. It’s not that he doesn’t _like_ guitars, he just knows he’ll probably never own more than one or two. But here he is, learning the differences between a Stratocaster and a Telecaster, and suddenly it’s the most interesting topic in the world.

Just then, Frank pauses. In his hand, he holds a breadstick he had been using to gesture as he talked, and it stops in mid-air. “Am I boring you?” he asks worriedly.

Gerard smiles. “No, keep going.”

~

“I’m gonna miss you so fuckin’ much,” Gerard says when he’s got Frank pinned to his bed after they get home from dinner. They’ve never fucked here, in Gerard’s basement, because there’s never been a time when everyone was out of the house. But tonight, his parents and Elena are at a play that should run late, and Mikey is hanging out with Ray, so they’re free to make as much noise as they want. Gerard would be lying if he said it wasn’t exciting for them to finally be breaking in his bed. Not that he hasn’t fucked here before, but it’s different with Frank. Everything is different.

“God, me too.” Frank whines when Gerard tightens his hold around Frank’s wrists, which he’s holding down on either side of Frank’s head. “You gotta call me, okay? Call me every damn day.”

Gerard laughs. “Will do,” he says and kisses Frank, long and deep.

Frank moans and pushes his hips up to meet Gerard’s. “Shit, Gee,” he says when they part. “You get me so fuckin’ hot.”

“Mmm.” Gerard slides his mouth down to Frank’s throat. He sucks on the spot just above Frank’s collarbone that he knows makes Frank go crazy, and revels in the feeling of Frank rolling his hips frantically against his own.

“Please. Gee, please touch me.” Frank’s eyes are wide and his breathing is erratic.

“God,” Gerard says as he stares at Frank. “You’re so fucking _desperate_.” Suddenly, he moves in, pressing his hips down and dry humping Frank fast and hard.

“Fuck yes. Fuck me.” Frank arches up as far as he can into Gerard. “Sometimes – _ahh_ – sometimes all I can think about is you fucking me.” Gerard, spurred on by Frank’s words, starts moving with more determination, and Frank moans. “Your hands on me and your cock inside me and– oh, _fuck_ , Gerard!”

It’s good, probably good enough to get both of them off, but it’s not what they really want. Gerard growls and pulls back, hands releasing Frank’s wrists and instantly going for Frank’s belt. Frank helps him get it unbuckled and then fiddles with his fly until his jeans can be slid down his thighs. Gerard leans in and kisses Frank as he presses his palm to Frank’s cock through his boxers.

Frank whines and pushes his hips up again. “Wanna ride you,” he says when Gerard breaks the kiss. “I fucking love riding your cock. Please, Gee? Can I?”

“Christ. Do you think I’m gonna say no to that?”

Frank flashes Gerard a lazy smile that makes his heart stop for a moment. “Nah,” Frank says. “I’ve got you wrapped around my finger.”

 _You really fucking do,_ Gerard thinks, but instead of saying anything, he leans back in and captures Frank’s lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Frank brings his legs up as far as he can with his jeans pulled down just below his ass, his thighs bracketing Gerard’s. Gerard scoots back, lips still locked with Frank’s, and slides both his hands to Frank’s thighs. He yanks Frank’s jeans down to his ankles, making Frank gasp into Gerard’s mouth.

Gerard shifts back so he can take off Frank’s shoes, and then his pants, and finally his boxers. Frank is giving him another blissed-out smile, and Gerard can’t resist leaning in and pressing a few sweet kisses to his mouth. He toys with the hem of Frank’s shirt and then reluctantly breaks the kiss to lift it over Frank’s head.

He sits back again, admiring Frank’s naked body beneath him. Frank rarely lets Gerard do this: remain fully clothed while he’s completely undressed, but apparently Frank is treating him tonight.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Gerard moves forward and takes one of Frank’s nipples into his mouth, gently sucking and drawing a startled gasp from Frank that’s followed by a moan. He kisses down Frank’s chest and belly, dipping his tongue into Frank’s navel as he goes, until he reaches Frank’s cock. “So fucking pretty.” He licks teasingly over the head, and Frank takes in a sharp breath.

“ _Fuck_ , Gee,” Frank breathes out. Gerard looks up to see Frank fighting to keep his eyes open, both hands fisted in Gerard’s Star Wars comforter.

“I wanna do something special.” Gerard punctuates the sentence with another lick over the head of Frank’s dick. “Wanna give you something to remember me by.” He gently grips Frank’s cock in one hand, and slowly moves lower.

Frank huffs out a laugh. “I’m not gonna forget you, Gee. Couldn’t if I tr– Holy _fuck!_ ” One of Frank’s hands flies to Gerard’s head and fists itself in his hair as Gerard licks over Frank’s hole. “Oh, God. Fuck, no one’s done this to me in so _long_.”

“Mmm,” Gerard moans as he continues teasing the outside of Frank’s hole with his tongue. He pulls back a bit, says, “That’s a shame,” and then moves right back in.

Frank is moaning now, high-pitched, desperate sounds that go straight to Gerard’s cock. Gerard grinds himself against the mattress, trying to get any kind of friction. Finally, he pushes his tongue inside Frank, and Frank practically shrieks at the sensation.

“Fucking hell, Gerard. I–” Frank struggles to open his eyes, and only manages to lock his gaze with Gerard’s for a second before they slip closed again and his head falls back against the pillow.

Gerard is still holding Frank’s cock, and he can feel how much Frank is aching to be touched. He doesn’t move his hand, though, deciding that he wants to get Frank as riled up as possible. He continues going at it with his tongue, alternating between driving in hard and fast, and slowly massaging Frank’s inner walls.

“ _More_. Please. I need–”

Gerard groans and pulls himself away from Frank, reaching for the bedside table where his bottle of lube is stashed. As he pours some of the substance on his fingers, Frank lays underneath him, taking fast, labored breaths. Gerard snaps the bottle closed and sets it down on the bed, and then scoots back down until he’s between Frank’s thighs.

“You ready, babe?” Gerard looks at Frank, who’s staring down at him with wide eyes.

“Fuck yeah I’m fuckin’ ready. Fuck.”

Gerard chuckles and then slowly pushes one finger inside Frank. He lets Frank get used to the stretch for a few moments before he starts moving his finger in and out, adding a second one after a little while. Frank is pushing down to meet Gerard’s hand, and Gerard brings his other arm up and presses it down across Frank’s hips to still him. Gerard scissors his fingers inside Frank, causing him to groan and rest his head back. It pops right back up again, though, when Gerard leans in and adds his tongue in between his fingers.

“Holy fucking _shit!_ ” Frank lets out a few moans before he speaks again. “How did I – _ahh_ – how did I score you, huh? How’d I get so fuckin’ lucky?”

Gerard retracts his tongue for a moment, but keeps his fingers steadily pumping in and out of Frank. He meets Frank’s eyes when he says, “I ask myself the same thing about you every day.” Before Frank can respond, Gerard moves back in with his tongue.

Frank lets out a high-pitched wail, and Gerard watches as his eyes roll back. “Gee, fuck. I’m gonna come.”

Gerard tightens his grip on the base of Frank’s cock, dragging him back from edge. He stills his fingers and pulls back a bit. “What do you want, babe? Like this?”

“I–” Frank looks at him and his already-flushed face goes impossibly pinker. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. You can ride me later.” Gerard smiles and winks, hoping it comes off sexy like he means it to, but it probably doesn’t.

Frank nods. “Okay. Yeah, like this, fuck.”

“Mmm.” Gerard draws out the sound as he slides his tongue back in between his fingers, letting the vibrations radiate through Frank, who moans deeply. He picks up the pace with his fingers again, but doesn’t loosen his hold on Frank’s cock.

“More,” Frank chokes out, and Gerard adds a third finger.

On each thrust, he goes in with a different angle, searching for Frank’s prostate, until he feels Frank’s whole body tense up.

“Oh God, Gee. I’m–” He moans louder when Gerard pushes in at the same angle, directly hitting his prostate.

Finally, Gerard allows his hand to move, pumping Frank fast and hard. Almost immediately, Frank howls – Gerard is _very_ glad they’re alone in the house right now – and comes all over his stomach and Gerard’s fist. Gerard works him through it, slowing his tongue and both his hands as Frank feels the aftershocks. Eventually, he moves up to Frank’s side, and pulls Frank’s limp body against his own. He kisses Frank’s temple, and sees him smile sleepily.

“That was fucking amazing, Gee.”

“You deserve it.” _You deserve everything_ , he doesn’t say aloud.

~

Frank does ride his cock, but it’s hours later once everyone has come home and gone to sleep. Because of this, they have to be unbearably quiet, but it’s what Frank wants, and Gerard can’t do much but give in. And, well, that’s not hard for him to do when all the guy wants is to ride him. It doesn’t get much better than that, even if they do have to keep their moans to a minimum.

“Fuck yeah,” Gerard whispers as Frank picks up the pace. The loudest sound in the room is the repeated slap of their hips meeting, and for some reason it’s turning him on. “Oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

Frank gives a shaky laugh. “I’d better.” He wines quietly in his throat and then reaches down to wrap a hand around his own cock. “Shit, me too.”

Gerard fucks up into him hard and fast, and they both moan a little too loud as they fall over the edge, and pray they didn’t wake anyone up.

A few minutes later, after they’ve cleaned up and are lying in bed with Frank’s head in its natural place on Gerard’s chest and Gerard’s arms wrapped around him, Gerard wonders how he’ll survive the next three weeks without this. With that in mind, he holds Frank closer.

They’re silent for a while, and Gerard thinks Frank might have drifted off to sleep at some point, but then Frank stirs and kisses Gerard’s chest.

“What are you thinking about?” Frank asks.

Gerard smiles at the sincerity in Frank’s voice, and feels thankful for it. “Just about how I love this, the aftermath. I mean, I love the fucking, obviously. But it’s nice to… I dunno. Just be together, afterwards. Haven’t had that with anyone in a long time.”

“Mmm. Yeah, I love it too. Way better than a hook-up,” Frank says and they both giggle. “Hey, why did you stop calling me sugar? I kinda liked that, back at the beginning.”

“Um.” Gerard shifts awkwardly. “It’s sort of a thing I only call, uh, well, hook-ups. In case I forget their name.”

Frank looks at him. “Oh my god,” he says, laughing.

“I stopped doing it, didn’t I! When– When you weren’t a hook-up anymore.”

Frank keeps laughing a little longer before he says, “Okay, I get it. We’re an _item_ now, or whatever, so I’m ‘babe’ not ‘sugar.’”

“Exactly, _babe_ ,” Gerard says, grinning. There’s another short silence, and then he says, “Can I ask you something personal?”

Frank moves so that his head is right next to Gerard’s, resting on the same pillow. “Yeah, go for it.”

“You really don’t have to answer,” Gerard says, and Frank nods. “I just… What was you first time like?”

Frank’s eyes go a little wide, him obviously not having expected the question. “Oh,” he says.

“You totally don’t have say anything. I’m just curious, but I won’t ask again. I’m sorry I even–”

“No,” Frank cuts him of softly. “No, I want to tell you. It’s just kind of, I don’t know. Embarrassing, I guess.” He looks down and goes quiet for a moment, thinking, and then, “It was with this guy I went to high school with. Fucking Catholic school boy, thought he was being cool and rebellious fucking a dude. And I fell for it like a total idiot. Anyway, we did it in the back of his mom’s minivan – Jesus fuck, what was wrong with me – and he came in about two seconds and then didn’t care enough to get me off. Didn’t really want to touch me, probably. But I was still on the hook, and I went home thinking he’d call me. But he didn’t. And I called and called and I tried to talk to him at school but he wouldn’t–” Frank chokes out a sob and Gerard sees the tears spilling out onto his cheeks.

“Oh, Frankie.” Gerard wraps his arms around Frank and draws him in close. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“He wouldn’t even _look_ at me– God,” Frank says, his voice thick with tears. “I’m not even mad he did that to me, not anymore. I’m mad I did that to myself, because I knew I didn’t deserve that shit, I knew it even back then, but I put up with it because I thought he really liked me.”

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. He was an asshole, and he didn’t deserve you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m just– fuck.” Frank pulls back to look Gerard in the eye. “I’m so fucking lucky I have you, okay? I think about it every damn day. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Gerard leans in and kisses Frank. He tastes salt and bitterness and regret. “I’m not going anywhere, Frank.”

Frank nods. “I know.”

They lay there in silence for a while, just holding each other, until Frank asks, “So what about you?”

“Um.” Gerard clears his throat. “It was with a girl,” he says, and Frank bursts out laughing. Gerard laughs with him. He recounts his fumbled attempts at heterosexuality with as much humor as possible, anything to see Frank’s smile.

~

Gerard turns the corner onto his street and lets out a sigh. It’d been hard, seeing Frank off, knowing that the next few weeks would be their first real challenge as a couple. But when Frank had kissed him behind Pencey’s tour van, and then whispered in his ear “Call me. Just– whenever you want, or if you need to talk about something. I’m here. Like always,” Gerard’s heart had swelled, and it gave him hope that maybe, just maybe he’d be able to make it through this in one piece.

He reaches his driveway and as he pulls in, he’s surprised to see Ray’s beater against the curb. For a second, he worries that he forgot about band practice, and then confirms with his internal calendar that, no, they don’t have anything until Tuesday night. He gets out of his own car and walks towards Ray’s, and notices that Ray is sitting in the front seat with Mikey. The windows are rolled up and Gerard can hear Iron Maiden spilling out, even from where he stands outside the car.

He taps lightly on the passenger window and Mikey startles a little. He rolls down the window as Ray snaps into action and lowers the stereo volume. Smoke wafts out of the cracked window and Gerard is hit with the thick smell of weed.

“Hey,” Mikey says groggily, and offers him the joint he’s holding without Gerard having to ask.

“Thanks,” Gerard says. He takes a hit and immediately feels some of the tension leave his shoulders. “Shit, why did I stop smoking weed?” He chuckles as he passes the joint back. Mikey laughs too, but they both know the reason is that their mom hates the smell of the stuff in the house, and Gerard would rather stick to booze and pills so he can avoid leaving his basement to get fucked up. “You guys stay out all night?”

“Yeah. Er, no– We stayed in. At my place.” Ray seems like he’s having some trouble with words, so Gerard nods to let him know he doesn’t need to say more, but Ray presses on. “We hung out. Ya know, last night. ‘M just, like, dropping Mikes off. Now.”

“Yeah,” Mikey agrees, nodding an unnecessary amount.

Gerard stifles a laugh. “Cool.” Mikey offers him the joint again and he takes another hit before handing it back and then says to Ray, “Get home safe, dude,” and really meaning it. He’s not sure the guy should be driving any time soon.

Ray waves and Mikey rolls up the window as Gerard walks back towards the house. He sighs, knowing that all that’s waiting for him is his depressing bedroom filled with unfinished projects, and a severe lack of Frank. He pushes inside the front door and heads right for the basement anyway, closing the door behind him when he reaches the bottom of the stairs. His eyes are immediately drawn to the bed, where he and Frank spent last night not sleeping. Perched on top of the messy blankets and pillows is a piece of paper, and Gerard’s heartrate picks up as he grabs it.

_See you soon, babe._

_Xofrnk_

He smiles, wide and genuine, feeling silly and light-hearted and _happy_. He carefully folds up the letter and slides it into his pocket. “See you soon,” he says to the empty room.


	16. Chapter 16

“Shit,” Gerard says for probably the twentieth time in the last hour. He scrubs a hand over his cheek and tries not to look at the disappointed faces around him. It’s the same as it always is: something is wrong that only he can hear, and he doesn’t know how to fix it or how to communicate it to anyone else. It just sounds _wrong_ , and he’s driving himself mad over it. “Five-minute break?”

Matt nods like he expected this, but not like he’s mad, which Gerard takes as a sign that maybe he hasn’t pissed them off all that bad this time.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Ray says. “Mikey, wanna grab a drink upstairs?”

“Sure,” Mikey says and the two of them set down their guitars before leaving the basement.

Gerard sits on his bed and puts head in his hands. “I don’t know what to fucking _do_.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Matt’s weight shifts the bed as he sits down next to Gerard. They sit there in silence for a few minutes. Gerard’s face starts to feel hot from the press of his palms, making his eyes warm and sleepy, and he considers lying back on the bed and just passing out, fuck the rest of practice, but then Matt says, “You just gotta ground yourself, ya know? Find something that keeps you sane. That’s when the music flows.”

“Keeps me sane…” Gerard lifts his head up, feeling a little less fuzzy and detached. “Keeps me _sane_.” He digs the note out of his pocket and unfolds it. _See you soon_. He smiles as he walks to the bottom of the stairs. “Mikey! Ray! Get your asses back down here!”

He thinks about Frank’s stage presence, his relentless, in-your-face energy, and he chanels it as they practice. He thinks it works pretty well; even Mikey gives him an impressed look when they run through Vampires Will Never Hurt you and Gerard gets seriously into the screaming parts. It still doesn’t sound quite the way he wants it, but it’s getting there.

When they decide to call it a night, it’s almost one AM. Matt says goodbye to them all and leaves while Ray sticks around to play video games with Mikey in the living room. They don’t invite Gerard to join, but he knows he could if he wanted. Instead, he falls back onto his bed, digs his phone out of his pocket and dials Frank’s number.

He doesn’t mind it, the nights spent in bed with Frank talking in his ear. He just wishes he wasn’t _alone_ in bed, and that Frank was right next to him rather than states away. He wishes Frank’s voice wasn’t coming through his cell phone receiver, and that he could feel it right here, hot breath against his neck. But he doesn’t mind it, not really. It’s just kind of fucking killing him.

“I miss you,” Frank says, quietly because he’s in a motel room with two of his bandmates who are crashed out, but could wake up at any moment.

Gerard chuckles, trying to cover up just how much he misses Frank back. “That’s good to hear. Just so I know the groupies haven’t gotten to you.”

Frank gives a short laugh that’s probably too loud. “Yeah, right, _groupies_. As if we’d get any of those. And male groupies are even less likely, so I guess I’m stuck with my loneliness.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

There’s an awkward pause that Gerard’s not sure how to fill.

Frank sighs, but it’s not a frustrated sigh. Gerard can hear something behind it, something mischievous. “I just wish someone could, you know, help me out.”

Gerard shifts under the covers, suddenly feeling hot and restless. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I just… I really need someone to keep me company.” Frank is whiny and breathy, the way he gets when he’s turned on, and Gerard is pretty sure he’s playing it up a little bit.

“Gosh, I’m sorry you’ve only got stinky bandmates around.” Gerard can’t manage to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face. He tries to make is voice lower, more intimate and says, “Do you think there’s any way I can help?”

“Oh, I dunno.” Frank’s voice sounds tighter, high pitched and strained. “I’ve got a _big problem_ I’m dealing with.”

Gerard chuckles. “Same here.” He’s telling the truth. He’s been able to ignore the growing bulge in his sweatpants until now, but he can’t anymore, and he slides his hand down his stomach until it reaches the waistband of his pants. “Maybe you can help me out too.”

“I’d like that. Fuck,” Frank says, his tone changing from seductive to desperate, but it works even better to get Gerard riled up. “I wanna get you off, Gee.”

Gerard sucks in a breath. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. _God_ , I wanna be there with you right now.”

“Me too…” Gerard trails off, moaning a little when he takes hold of his cock. “You wanna know what _I_ want?” The question is out of his mouth before he realizes it, before he can even figure out what he’ll say if Frank wants to hear his answer, but Frank just gives him a breathy ‘Yeah, tell me’ and suddenly he knows exactly what he wants. He just hopes Frank does too. “I want you– Fuck. I want you tied to my goddamn headboard, on your knees. And I wanna fuck you until you can’t see straight.” His hand quickens on his cock, the scene right in front of him in his mind’s eye. “I wanna make you come so hard you don’t know what to do with yourself. And after you come down we’ll start it all over again.”

“ _Shit_ , Gee,” Frank says, definitely too loud. It sounds like he’s losing control now, which is good because Gerard is right there with him. “I fucking want that too. Jesus _Christ_ , I want it.”

“Good,” Gerard manages to say through quickened breaths. “As soon as you get back, I’m stealing you away and we’re not leaving the bedroom for _days_.”

“Oh, so, like, a normal weekend for you.” Frank gives a breathy laugh, and Gerard starts to tell him to shut up, but Frank’s already moving on. “I want you to make me wait. I want you to tie me up and make me beg for it, Gee.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah okay, I can do that. If you can be good for me.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ”

The sounds of Frank’s orgasm push Gerard over the edge, and they’re both moaning in each other’s ears for a few moments before they finally come back to themselves.

“Did you wake anyone up?” Gerard asks worriedly.

Frank laughs again, quietly this time. “No, they’re both conked out. Hambone went a little too hard on the booze and grass, I think. And Shaun just sleeps like a log no matter what.”

“Hmm… What about you? You sleeping okay?” Gerard knows that was one of the many things Frank was worried about for this tour – being way too stressed to sleep, and being overwhelmed with exhaustion when he needed to give it his all onstage.

“Yeah. Well, not really. But tonight, I will, I think.” There’s a smile in Frank’s voice, a blissed out, lazy smile. Gerard can almost see it, and that makes him smile too.

“Good,” Gerard says. “You should sleep, then. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Through a yawn, Frank says, “Can’t wait. Goodnight, Gee.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.” _I love you_ , he doesn’t say as he hangs up.

~

He’s lying in bed, trying to remember the things he did before he and Frank started hanging out all the time, and finds that there’s absolutely nothing to do. Nothing.

He doesn’t remember his life being like this before. It was boring, sure, and maybe half-empty. But it wasn’t nothing, and he always had things to fill his time. Mostly when they’re together in his basement, he and Frank will do their own thing; he’s finished countless projects just with the help of Frank sharing his space. Now, it seems he can’t find the interest to work on anything or start something new. He doesn’t even want to do something stupid like watch a movie or jerk off, not alone.

It’s only been a week and a half since Frank left on tour, and they’ve still got another week and a half to go before he gets home. And there’s nothing to do.

He sighs and pulls himself out of bed, where he knows he’s been spending far too much time lately. Not that it’s been any more than usual, but it’s different when it’s just him. It doesn’t feel good or right to pass the day in bed when Frank’s not there with him. It just makes him lonelier.

He heads up to the kitchen, in search of a snack and maybe a drink. Hopefully a drink. He finds Mikey sitting at the kitchen table, texting vigorously.

“Hey, Gee,” Mikey says without looking up.

“Hey,” Gerard says as he opens the fridge and scans the items inside. Leftovers, milk, produce. Nothing. Great.

“Oh, I talked to Geoff. He wants us to come in to sign.”

Gerard bangs his head on the fridge as he pulls back quickly. “ _What?_ ”

Mikey presses on, still not looking up from his phone. “Yeah. He wants us to set dates for recording and all that. And sign with Eyeball.”

Gerard stares at Mikey open-mouthed. “Already?”

Mikey puts down the phone then and looks at Gerard. “It’s been weeks since we met Geoff, Gee. It’s time.”

“But I…” _I need to talk to Frank_ , he thinks. And Frank’s not here.

Mikey apparently does his weird mind reader thing because he says, “Call him. Frank. He’ll know what to tell you.” He pauses, and then, “It’ll be good, signing with them.”

Gerard nods. He knows that. He knows that this is where they’re going, where they’ve been going since they got together as a band. But Mikey’s reassurance still helps, and Frank’s will, too. “I’ll call him,” he says. He was going to call Frank soon anyway. He feels a little bad about having to bog Frank down with his issues when he has a lot on his plate as it is, but Gerard is pretty sure Frank will be willing to help him stop freaking out.

“How are things… going? With you two?” Mikey seems hesitant, and for good reason. They haven’t talked about this, not out in the open. Which is weird because they used talk about everything before Gerard moved out. When they were in high school, Mikey could never get Gerard to shut up, even about things he said he didn’t want to know. But now Gerard is realizing that Mikey knows next to nothing about his relationship with Frank, let alone how serious it is.

“Good. Yeah, things are good.” Gerard crosses the room and sits down in the seat opposite Mikey, and looks at his hands. “I miss him.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Mikey says.

Gerard gives him a confused look. Mikey isn’t the type to have a steady partner, to be with anyone long enough to miss them. He somehow manages to get laid no matter how slim the chances are, and he isn’t the kind of dude who calls the day after. Not that he’s the fuck-‘em-and-leave-‘em type, he’s just a master of hook-ups, and he’s never had a hook-up that went like Gerard and Frank’s did, as far as Gerard knows. Then again, Gerard hasn’t noticed Mikey coming back to the house or staying out all night with strangers recently, and he wonders if maybe Mikey does know how he feels.

“It’s hard. Being apart from someone you spend so much time with usually. I get it,” Mikey says as an explanation.

Gerard nods. He doesn’t want to make it about himself, but maybe that’s what it is. He knows it was hard for Mikey when he left. It was hard for both of them, even though he was only on the other side of the river. But they barely got to see each other after that, only hanging out when Gerard came home for the weekend or Mikey made the trek into the City. Being apart from Mikey was hard. But with the band, they’ve been spending a lot more time together, and Gerard thinks maybe the tight bond they had is still there, just under the surface.

“I have some Jack in my room, if you want,” Mikey offers, and there he goes once again knowing exactly what Gerard needs.

“Hell yeah.”

~

He calls Frank again, after he’s gotten pleasantly buzzed in his basement and calmed down a little.

“Hey, babe” Frank says when he picks up.

Gerard smiles. “Hey.”

“I don’t have a ton of time before soundcheck. What’s up?”

“Um,” Gerard says, remembering the reason he’s calling. “I need, like, advice. I guess.”

“Okay. On what?”

“We’re signing with Eyeball,” Gerard says in a rush. “Well, I mean, we’re _going_ to. Geoff wants us to come in soon. And, I don’t know, I just have no clue what to expect or how it’s gonna go down or if I should read the fine print to make sure I’m not selling my soul or–”

“Gee!” Frank says, laughing. “You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

“You sure?” Gerard asks doubtfully.

“Yeah! It’s fucking awesome you’re gonna sign. I’m so fucking excited for you guys. Geoff’s good, he knows what he’s doing.”

Gerard exhales. “Okay. But, like, what’s gonna happen?”

“Well,” Frank says, “he’ll probably sign you for one album and a few weeks of touring to start. You’ll get some cash up front, not a lot, and it’ll come out the back end, but it’ll help. And there’ll be a lot of paperwork and lot of fine print, but you won’t sell your soul.”

“That… doesn’t sound as bad as I though it would be,” Gerard admits.

“Good. It’ll be great, Gerard. It’ll be fucking awesome,” Frank says. “I could go with you, if you wanted.”

“Will you?” Gerard asks. He hadn’t realized Frank was even allowed to go with them, but now that he knows it’s an option, he doesn’t want it any other way.

“Of course,” Frank says softly. “Just tell me when and where. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Frankie. I’ll let you know.” Gerard pauses and tries to rub a stain off the corner of his dresser. It doesn’t fade, and he furrows his brow in concentration as he goes at it harder.

“Gee?” Frank asks.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m here. How are you doing, Frankie?”

Frank sighs. “I’m all right. Wanna be home real bad right about now, though.”

“Me too. I want you home, I mean,” Gerard says. “How’s the tour going?”

“Fine. As expected. Better, I guess, no one’s had a huge fight or anything.”

“That’s good.” Gerard rubs absently at the stain a little.

Frank takes a breath in. “Yeah. Hey, Gee?”

He stops, knowing that whatever Frank is about to say requires his full attention. “Uh huh?”

“Just– I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you too. I miss you a lot, Frank,” Gerard says, surprising himself a little.

Frank sighs again. “I gotta go. Call me later?”

“I will. Bye, Frankie,” he says and then hangs up.

Gerard looks down at the stain on his dresser. He realizes it’s a coffee stain from when Frank got a little too excited about Gerard’s signed copy of The Shining and spilled his mug everywhere. Gerard smiles, and leaves the stain be.


	17. Chapter 17

Somehow, he’d forgotten. Not completely, of course, but during those three weeks his memory had gone a little fuzzy. He’d forgotten his hands, how they’re somehow both delicate and strong. He’d forgotten the sway of his hips and the tension in his shoulders and the light of his eyes and his smile. Fuck, his smile. And now he’s here, just for him. All of him. And it feels like a damn miracle.

“Hey,” Frank says as he approaches Gerard from the van, duffle slung over his shoulder.

Gerard’s here, just like he said he would be, at the god-awful hour of nine in the morning. They’ll have to come back later, when Pencey has to unload the van and set up for their show at the club across the street. But, for now, Frank is his and only his. And they can go home and lock themselves away for a few hours.

“Hey,” he replies as he holds out his hand for Frank to take. “Long time, no see.”

Frank’s grin turns sly. “Way too long.”

They walk hand-in-hand back to Gerard’s Subaru, only letting go when they have to open the doors and climb in.

“Your place?” Gerard asks. He figures Frank wants to drop off his stuff, settle in a little, check on the plants that died before he even left.

“I thought we agreed on your place. You know, tying me to the bedframe and all that.” Frank laughs and Gerard’s heart beats faster.

“You know how my house is. No privacy.” He tries to keep it light, but his frustration over his living situation has grown recently. He’d never felt like he needed more privacy until he met Frank, as his family always left him well alone, but he’s come to feel like he needs to branch out, and maybe take Frank with him. Yeah, definitely take Frank with him.

“Alright.” Frank gives him an easy smile. “My place it is.”

Gerard nods and then quickly looks away, because if he holds Frank’s gaze any longer they may never make it out the parking lot. He turns the ignition and drives off, carefully watching the road so he can avoid any danger before it impedes his plans of fucking Frank into the mattress. He glances towards the passenger seat and sees Frank staring at him, his eyes dark. Gerard lingers a little bit too long on Frank’s hips and nearly misses a stop sign. He looks back at the road, vowing to not let himself get distracted until the car is no longer running.

That proves to be a hard vow to keep, however, when Frank places a hand on Gerard’s thigh and presses kisses up and down his neck.

“ _Frankie_ ,” Gerard says, half exhilarated and half warning.

“Eyes on the road, Gee,” Frank says teasingly.

Somehow, they make it to Frank’s apartment in one piece. Gerard throws the car in park and bolts out the door as quick as he can. Frank looks like he would’ve been content to make out a little bit more behind the wheel, but Gerard is having none of it. He pulls Frank up the stairs while Frank laughs at him, and then taps his foot impatiently as Frank fumbles for his keys.

“ _Finally_ ,” Gerard says as the door swings open, and he’s on Frank before they’ve even crossed the threshold.

~

“Oh, _shit_.” Frank moans and struggles at the fabric tied around his wrists. They didn’t have any proper rope or bindings to hold him place, but Frank’s old high school uniform tie is doing the trick.

If Gerard’s honest, it’s _really_ doing the trick for him.

Frank lets out another moan, higher pitched this time, as Gerard works three fingers inside him, slowly kneading right on the spot Frank needs it, that has him trembling, unable to keep his mouth shut or his moans silenced.

Watching his fingers steadily move in and out of Frank’s hole with Frank bound and Gerard’s hand holding his hips still so he can’t control the pace, it’s, well, it’s unlike anything Gerard has ever witnessed.

Gerard leans forward and presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Frank’s lower back. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he says, surprised at the huskiness of his own voice.

“Gee, I–” Frank seems to barely be keeping it together. His cock looks achingly hard where it hangs untouched below his stomach. “I can’t, I fucking…” He gives a deep, resonant moan just then, not able to finish the sentence.

Gerard kisses him again, slightly higher on his back. “You okay? Still with me?” He stills his fingers for a moment until Frank answers.

“ _Fuck_ , yeah, don’t stop.”

Gerard nods, though he knows Frank can’t see it with his head hung between his shoulders. He starts moving his fingers again, eyes flicking back to where they disappear inside Frank. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been at it, doesn’t _care_. He could do this for the rest of his damn life and never get bored.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, Frankie.” Gerard can’t keep his hands – or lips – to himself. He can’t stop digging the fingers of his free hand into the soft flesh of Frank’s hip, careful to avoid the healing swallow tattoos that Frank had done while on tour. He can’t stop leaving kisses on Frank’s back, tracing his tongue wherever he can reach. He can’t get enough of _Frank_ , and he’s pretty sure he never will.

“Fuck me,” Frank says, pleading. “Please fuck me.”

“Hmm, I dunno,” Gerard says, moving his fingers torturously slow. “I’m not convinced you want it bad enough.”

“Fuck,” Frank says under his breath. “Please, Gee. I need you to fuck me. Please, oh God, please fuck me–”

“Okay,” Gerard says, “but only because you’ve been so good.” When Gerard slowly removes his fingers, Frank hisses a little at the loss, and Gerard rubs his lower back soothingly. Gerard’s own cock is flushed and heavy, and he revels in the contact as he slides on a condom and slathers himself in lube. “Okay,” he says again as he lines himself up. Frank moans as Gerard presses the head of his cock in. He goes slower than he knows Frank needs, but wants to draw this out as long as he can.

“Come _on_ , I can take it,” Frank goads him.

“I know,” Gerard says, sliding in another few inches. “That’s not the point.”

Frank huffs. “What’s the point, then, fucker?”

“You wanted me to make you wait.” Gerard groans as he bottoms out. “You wanted me to make you _beg_ for it.”

“I did!” Frank twists his head around to give Gerard a frustrated look. “Did you not hear me begging just now?”

Gerard smiles. It’s really fucking hard for him to stop himself from pulling back and slamming into Frank like they both want, but he manages to hold still. “I wanna hear it again. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Frank closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them they’ve gone dark. “I want you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I forget my damn name, Gee. Please, I fucking need it, I–”

Gerard pulls back until only the head of his dick is still in Frank, and they both take in a sharp breath. He pauses for a moment, just until Frank opens his mouth thinking Gerard wants him to beg again, and then he slams forward. Frank rolls his head back and moans, loud as ever. Gerard begins fucking him in earnest then, finding his prostate in record time and hitting it repeatedly. Frank struggles at the bonds around his wrists and rolls his shoulders restlessly as Gerard pounds into him.

Gerard reaches forward and grabs a fist full of Frank’s hair, yanking it back and pulling his neck taught.

“Fuck, Gee, gonna come,” Frank whines.

Gerard fucks him harder still, and starts to move his free hand to Frank’s cock, but before he can, Frank is arching his back and coming all over the sheets, giving a sinful moan. Gerard follows immediately after just at the sight, fighting to keeps his eyes open but failing as he releases Frank’s hair and slams in one last time, coming deep inside Frank.

“Holy fucking _shit_.” Frank’s breaths are heavy, his shoulders rising and falling unevenly.

Gerard carefully pulls out and disposes of the condom, and then quickly unties the bonds around Frank’s wrists. They’re rubbed raw when the tie falls away, but Frank doesn’t seem to mind. He collapses onto the bed on his stomach, and Gerard lies down next to him once he’s put the tie away. He drapes an arm over Frank’s back and tucks his nose into Frank’s hair, inhaling the scent of sweat and sex _._ Gerard’s body fits right up against Frank’s, meshing together as if they’re one.

“You were fucking gorgeous. So perfect, Frankie.”

Frank is still heaving breaths, but he manages to say, “That’s never happened to me before. Coming like that, I mean.” He turns his head to look at Gerard sideways, and he’s wearing a huge, blissed-out grin.

Gerard can’t help but match it. “It was fucking hot. I’ve never done that to anyone. Fuck.” He kisses Frank softly, hoping it doesn’t overwhelm him, but if he doesn’t kiss Frank right this instant he’s going to explode. “You’re amazing. Fucking amazing, Frank.”

Frank’s eyes slowly slide shut as he hums contentedly.  “I’m crashing out on you now.”

“Okay.” Gerard chuckles, content to sleep for as many hours he can steal with Frank in his arms.

~

They wake up sometime later, and Gerard would really like to never leave the bed again, but they’ve got to get a move on or Frank will be late to his own show. Frank grumbles a little bit about having to go play when he would much rather catch up on three weeks’ worth of sex and sleep, but they get out of bed and head for the venue anyway.

“You gotta come back over soon,” Frank assures him as they’re leaving his apartment. “My mom is coming over for dinner tonight though, so maybe tomorrow.”

Gerard nods, but says nothing. He’s only been able to pick up bits and pieces of Frank’s relationship with his parents, and he wants to know more, but he’s promised himself he won’t push it no matter how curious he gets.

They drive back to the venue in silence. Frank jitters in the passenger seat, presumably anxious about the hometown show and having to be around his band again after a stressful tour. Gerard wants to offer words of encouragement, but he’s not sure what to say. He’s hardly in the position to give advice about dealing with nerves before a show, and he doesn’t know what it’s like to not want to see your bandmates. He settles for smiling at Frank reassuringly as they get out of the car and head inside, trying to let Frank know that he’s here if Frank needs him.

“He’s with me,” Frank tells the security guard at the side entrance, and they head backstage.

Gerard hadn’t even really considered the fact that he’s not supposed to be here yet, unless he’s with the band, which he is. He’s with Frank. And it hits him all over again that he’s _with Frank_. His heartrate kicks up a notch as he tugs on Frank’s arm and pulls him to the side backstage.

Frank looks at him confusedly. “What, Gee?”

Gerard takes a deep breath. “Well, I mean, I think your bandmates know about us. Or, most of them do, at least. So its seems kind of silly to…” He looks down, embarrassed about what he’s about to propose. “Just– We might as well act like it, right?” He looks back up at Frank, trying not to blush too hard.

Frank is positively _beaming_ at him. “You wanna, like, hold hands and shit?”

“I– Um. Yeah, if you want to.” _Could you be more awkward?_ Gerard scolds himself, but Frank is still smiling, and then he’s sliding a hand into Gerard’s and his grip is warm and comforting.

“I want to,” Frank says.

“Cool,” Gerard says, still kind of acting like an idiot. “That’s, yeah. That’s cool.” Definitely an idiot.

Frank laughs. “You’re a dork.” He tugs on Gerard’s hand and leads him further backstage. “Come on, let me show you off.”

“Oh, Jeez,” Gerard says, but he’s smiling and he goes without a fight. He’d let Frank lead him anywhere.

~

The greatest thing about it is that _no one fucking cares_. And if they do, Gerard doesn’t give a shit what they think. They walk around backstage hand-in-hand until Pencey has to go on, and hardly anyone even looks twice at them. They do get a few dirty looks from members of the opening band, but no one says anything, and Frank mentions that he got bad vibes from them from the beginning and doesn’t plan on touring with them ever again.

They giggle and flirt like idiots, but it feels so damn _nice_ to not have to hide this, to not have to pretend like this isn’t important to them. And then, when it’s time for Frank to take the stage, Frank says, “Wish me luck,” and kisses Gerard soft on the mouth.

Gerard is too flustered to say anything, just smiles like a dork and waves as Frank grins back and walks onstage. He watches the first half of the set from backstage, and it really is a great place to watch the show, but looking out at the raging crowd, he wishes he were there instead. He makes his way out to the crowd and joins in. Even with all the moving bodies around him, he can’t keep his eyes off Frank.

Frank screams the lyrics and throws himself around the stage like he’s down in the pit with the rest of them. But at the same time, he commands the crowd below him. Frank orders they form a circle pit and they do it. Frank tells them to jump and they do it. Frank tells them to stop, to stand still, to go completely silent, and they _do it_.

Gerard is breathing hard as he stands still, waiting for the next command, when Frank’s eyes meet his. Gerard isn’t sure how Frank manages it, because he’s only one in a sea of people, but Frank is looking directly at him, and his gaze doesn’t waver.

“There’s someone here tonight. Someone very special to me,” Frank says through uneven breaths. “He’s the lead singer of my favorite band, and he means the fuckin’ world to me.” Gerard’s chest swells. He can’t believe what he’s hearing, can’t believe that Frank is saying it _on stage_ in front of everyone. Just then, Frank’s eyes leave his and scan the crowd instead. “Next time My Chemical Romance has a show, I need you all to do me a favor, okay? I need you to go to that fucking show, dance your fucking asses off, and give the lead singer a big fucking hug.” The crowd cheers as Gerard breaks into a huge smile. “This is a new song, and it’s for him.”

Frank spins around, away from the mic, and plays the first notes of what Gerard instantly recognizes as Heroine Slow. Another cheer goes up from the crowd, and Gerard’s ears ring with it. All these people are here, every single one of them to see Pencey, but this song is for _him_. Just him. Frank turns back around and again manages to catch Gerard’s eye. Frank winks. Gerard smiles, knowing that too is his and his alone.

~

“It’s gonna be fine, come on,” Frank tells him.

Gerard nods. He knows it’ll be fine. He _knows_ it will. But that doesn’t make walking through the doors at Eyeball Studios any easier. Frank hops forward and holds the door open for Gerard with an encouraging smile. Gerard tries to smile back, but probably only ends up grimacing miserably.

The receptionist’s desk is empty, but Matt is sitting in the waiting area with his face buried in an outdated copy of Alternative Press professing Nickelback’s rise to fame. He looks up when he hears the door and his eyes brighten at Gerard and Frank’s entrance. “Hey,” he greets them.

“Hey,” Gerard says. “Where’s Ray and Mikey?”

“Ray called me, like, ten minutes ago,” Matt says, looking up to the ceiling, contemplative. “Car trouble. They’ll be here.”

“They’d better,” Gerard grumbles.

“Hey,” Frank says softly as he places a warm hand on Gerard’s bicep. Their eyes meet, and Frank’s warm gazes helps Gerard relax a little. “They’ll be here. Don’t worry.”

“We still have a few minutes anyway,” Matt says, too loudly for the intimate scene unfolding between Frank and Gerard.

Gerard nods, and Frank drops his hand. The two of them sit in the seats adjacent to Matt, facing the door. The cracked upholstery crunches beneath Gerard as he fidgets, unable to keep himself still. He crosses his left leg over his right knee, and then, not even five seconds later, uncrosses them and crosses them again the opposite way. He uncrosses them again and leans forward as he exhales shakily.

Frank’s hand falls heavily on Gerard’s right knee where it’s bouncing incessantly. Gerard suddenly stops moving completely and looks at Frank, who’s looking like he stole every ounce of calm in Gerard’s body. It’s comforting, having Frank with him, not only because it’s _always_ comforting to have Frank with him, but because Frank has actually done this before. He smiles, and Frank smiles back.

Just then, the door swings wide open and Mikey and Ray come striding through. They’re laughing, too big and loud for the small lobby. Ray claps his hand on Mikey’s shoulder and then hangs on for dear life as another wave of giggles hits him and he doubles over. Mikey’s not much better, tears forming at the corners of his eyes and a huge smile splitting across his face. His laughs are coming in wheezes now, as if he’s been at it so long his body has given up on legitimate laughter.

Gerard can’t quite believe it. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Mikey so happy, and a dark part of him twinges with jealousy that it was someone else who made Mikey feel like this. In all the years they’ve spent together, Mikey’s never laughed so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. Gerard had long ago resigned himself to flailing around and sounding like a dying seal on his own, Mikey stoically chuckling beside him. He never thought anything of it, really. Mikey isn’t the exuberant type, or so Gerard thought.

His jealousy comes out as anger, and he instantly regrets it. “Nice of you to finally show,” he bites.

Ray slowly straightens up and his laughter trails off along with Mikey’s. “Sorry, Gee,” Ray says. “Got held up. And then Mikey fucking–” and he’s off again, laughing like nothing has ever been funnier than whatever ridiculous thing Mikey did.

“No!” Mikey says, laughing again as well. “It was Ray and his stupid jokes! Wouldn’t shut up for five fucking minutes.”

“They were funny. You loved it,” Ray teases as he shoves Mikey’s shoulder playfully.

Mikey beams. _Beams_. “Yeah. I did.”

Gerard is about to start complaining again when Geoff pokes his head out of the room across from them. “Are you guys ready? I just finished arranging the paperwork.” Gerard clamps his mouth shut and nods. “Come on in then,” Geoff says, and his head disappears back behind the door.

Frank’s hand slides into Gerard’s as they stand. Gerard is a little embarrassed about how sweaty his palms are, but Frank doesn’t seem to mind. The five of them make their way into Geoff’s office and sit across from where he sits behind his desk. There are mounds of paper spread out across the desk, all with tiny, minuscule type printed on them.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Geoff says, smiling. “A lot of this isn’t even for you. Agreements between Eyeball and the studio, the producers, et cetera.” Some of them nod in response, but they all remain silent. Geoff continues, “There’s a guy, John Naclerio. He’s got a studio about an hour from here. He likes your stuff, thinks he would want to work with you. He won’t be able to get you in for a few months, but that’ll give you guys some time to get some more material finished before going in, anyway.”

“Awesome,” Gerard says without thinking. It’s not exactly how he feels, the whole this is still kind of terrifying him, but it _is_ objectively awesome. And at least he’ll have a while for the idea of recording to sit with him before he actually has to go in and do it for real.

Geoff looks happy that Gerard is on board. “Great. Then, to business…”

With Frank’s encouragement, they sign away fifty percent of the total profit for one week of studio time (“We can get you more if you really need it”), a two-week tour between recording and the release, and then a few months of touring afterwards.

It makes him feel a little stupid, but Gerard hadn’t even thought about touring yet. Frank’s tour with Pencey should have reminded him that touring is sort of what you do when you’re in a band that’s putting out records, but he hadn’t seriously considered it for My Chem yet. Especially not as soon as just a few months after they’d formed.

Still, he walks out of the building feeling confident for once. The cold wind of the January Jersey air hits him as the door swings open, but it doesn’t bother him as much as it usually would.

“Look at you, big shots with a record deal and everything!” Frank jokes. “But really, congrats, guys. This is big.”

“Thanks, Frankie,” Ray says.

“Bar?” Mikey offers.

Gerard is most certainly interested in that, especially after the rollercoaster of anxiety the day has been. “Bar,” he says.

~

Gerard decides that the perfect way to celebrate their signing with Eyeball is to get completely and utterly smashed. He’s four beers and six shots deep when he feels a hand settle on his shoulder.

“Hey, Gee,” Frank says.

“Frankie!” Gerard is more than happy to see his boyfriend, who he sort of lost track of earlier in the night. “Where’ve you been, babe?”

Frank smiles. “Around. You having a good time?”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, drawing out the word. “Real good time.” He nods and then stops and closes his eyes, feeling a wave of nausea come, and then pass, thankfully.

“I think I should get you outta here,” Frank tells him, but Gerard barely hears it.

Suddenly, Mikey is on his other side, peering at him. Gerard can tell he’s drunk too by the way his eyes are slightly out of focus, but otherwise he seems completely sober. Only a Mikey expert would notice the giveaway.

“Yeah. Take him home, Frank,” Mikey says.

“What!” Gerard yells as Frank slides an arm around his waist and drags him off his stool. “I’m just gettin’ started!”

“You good to drive?” Mikey asks Frank, and Frank nods, bending a little under Gerard’s weight.

Frank stumbles out of the bar with Gerard in tow, dragging him to the parking lot and getting Gerard situated in the passenger seat of his Toyota before rounding the car and getting in. As soon as he’s turned the engine over, he cranks the heat up full blast and rubs his hands together to warm them up.

Gerard lolls his head back against the seat as Frank drives, slowly starting to come to terms with the fact that tonight’s drinking is over and all that’s left for him is to pass the fuck out.

“Hey,” Frank says when he notices Gerard’s eyes slipping closed. “Stay awake, motherfucker. I’m not dragging you up all those stairs.”

Gerard nods and widens his eyes as far as they’ll go, which makes Frank laugh, and he smiles back lazily. They pull into Frank’s spot outside his apartment and Frank nearly does have to resort to dragging Gerard up the stairs, but they finally make it through his front door. Gerard collapses onto Frank’s bed as soon as Frank lets him go, and he curls up under the blankets immediately. He listens as Frank putters around for a few more minutes and he scrunches up his face in frustration when he realizes that, no matter how drunk and exhausted he may be, he won’t be able to fall asleep until Frank crawls into bed next to him.

“Frankie?” Gerard calls. Frank makes an inquisitive noise from what’s probably the kitchen. “Come to bed!”

Frank chuckles. “All right, all right.”

Gerard hears Frank come back into the room, and then the rustle of clothing lets him know Frank is changing into his pajamas, and he smiles. Frank reaches under the blankets and tugs off Gerard’s boots. Gerard tries to help, but he only succeeds in nearly kicking Frank in the face half a dozen times. Eventually, Frank lies down beside Gerard on the bed and curls up behind him.

“You okay, Gee?” Frank asks.

Gerard hums contentedly. “Yeah. Thanks, Frank.” He almost says it then, the three words that have been on his mind for months now. But even in his heavily intoxicated state, some part of him is too nervous to follow through with it. He’s not sure what he’d do if Frank didn’t say it back, though it might be even worse if he did. Just saying it out loud would make everything that much more serious, and as much as Gerard is itching to be closer to Frank, he’s not sure he’s ready for that.

Instead, he does something even more stupid. “Why don’t you talk about your parents?” he asks, unable to keep his curiosity reined in while he’s intoxicated and nearly passed out.

Frank makes a confused, startled noise, and Gerard isn’t sure if it’s because Frank was almost asleep or because he wasn’t expecting the question. Probably both. “Um. Well, it’s kinda complicated,” Frank says.

Gerard rolls over to face Frank and cracks an eye open. “Yeah but why don’t you _talk_ about them?” he asks again, drawing out the word ‘talk’ longer than necessary.

Frank sighs and closes his eyes, his brows knitting together. “We don’t– My, uh, my dad and I don’t talk. Anymore.” Frank’s eyes drift back open as Gerard’s jaw drops.

He’s not sure why he’s surprised. Frank hasn’t said a word about his dad, not one in all the time they’ve spent together. But even with the little Gerard talks to his own father these days, he can’t imagine never speaking to him again. “Why?” Gerard asks.

Frank closes his eyes again and makes a pained expression. Gerard wishes he could take it back, wipe that look off Frank’s face and make it all better, but it’s too late now. “He didn’t really like the whole being gay thing.”

“Oh,” Gerard says stupidly. He should’ve seen that one coming a mile away.

He expects Frank to stop then, but he keeps going unprompted. “My mom, she… She didn’t like it either, but she wasn’t gonna throw me out, ya know? But he–” Frank cuts off mid-sentence and shakes his head, eyes still clenched shut. “He didn’t want me in the house.” He takes a shaky breath, and continues, “They still pay for school, as long as I stay in the business program. And my mom tries to help with rent, but he doesn’t know about that, so she can’t help very much.” Frank opens his eyes then, and Gerard can see them glisten in the faint light of the moon peeping in through the window.

Gerard lifts an unsteady hand and places it gently on Frank’s cheek. He swipes his thumb under Frank’s eye, wiping away a tear that has just slipped over. “You’re amazing, Frankie.” It’s not exactly what he meant to say, but it’s true. And he doesn’t think Frank really wants his pity right now, anyway.

Frank smiles a little, and Gerard warms inside. “Thanks, Gee.”

Gerard leans forward and places a kiss on Frank’s forehead. He closes his eyes and falls asleep to steady rhythm of their even, matched breaths.


	18. Chapter 18

The next month flies by, and before they know it, they’re preparing for another show. Matt’s contact at the club he mentioned ages ago finally came through, getting them a spot in their lineup for a hardcore show at the end of February. The name of the place sounds vaguely familiar, but Gerard doesn’t figure out why until he’s walking through the front doors just hours before their gig.

He stops in the middle of the room, facing the stage, and realizes he’s somewhere near the same spot where he and Frank met.

It’s odd to see the place empty, without the raging crowd and the violent music filling it. He has trouble picturing it like it was that night, though he knows that, come showtime, it’ll look something similar. Not the same, though. Nothing is like it was back then.

“Hey, stranger,” says a familiar voice beside him.

Gerard turns to see Frank holding a large box of t-shirts under one arm and a winning grin on his face. Gerard smiles back. “You realize where we are?” he asks, gesturing to the room.

Frank’s eyes get a little bit of a gleam in them. “‘Course I do,” he says. “You think I could forget where I first laid eyes on your sweet ass?”

Gerard laughs. “Come on, I’ll help you set up.” They make their way over to the merch booth and pin a few t-shirts to the wall before sorting the rest by size. When they’re done, Gerard still has a few minutes until he has to head backstage for soundcheck, so he sits down beside Frank in one of the chairs behind the booth.

Neither of them say anything for a moment, just grin at each other like idiots. Then, Frank waggles his eyebrows a little and leans in. “What if…” he starts, and has to stifle a giggle before he’s able to finish the thought. “What if, for tonight, we acted like we’ve never met?”

Gerard frowns. “Why would we do that?”

“ _Because_ ,” Frank leans in even closer, his lips ghosting over Gerard’s ear, “then it would be like the first time all over again.”

The idea suddenly snaps into place in Gerard’s brain, and he nods maybe a little too enthusiastically.

Frank chuckles in his ear. “Once your set is done, find me in the crowd.”

Gerard’s mouth goes dry, but he manages to say, “Okay.”

“Gee!” Ray calls from across the room, and Gerard jolts away from Frank, startled by the realization that they are in fact _not_ the only people in the room. “Time for soundcheck, dude,” Ray tells him.

Gerard nods. “Got it!” He breathes slowly in and out for a moment, and Frank giggles at him.

“See you later,” Frank says as Gerard rises to his feet.

Gerard nods again. “See you.” _Nothing is like it was back then_ , he thinks, _it’s so much fucking better_.

~

During the show, Gerard instinctively scans the crowd for Frank before remembering he’s at the merch booth and not in the small but energetic group at his feet. He wishes he had an encouraging smile from Frank to cheer him on, but he throws himself into the performance nonetheless. It goes better than he’d expected. The crowd isn’t there to see My Chem, they’re all waiting for the next band to come on, but Gerard manages to get them into it, and he thinks they may have won themselves a few new fans.

Coming offstage, he feels exhilarated. The guys are whooping and giving high fives as they put away equipment and make their way back out to the club. The lights have already gone down for the next band when Gerard gets there, and only then does he remember when he and Frank had agreed on. He eyes the surging crowd, and then makes a beeline for the bar. On his way there, he’s stopped a few times by Pencey fans who actually listened to Frank’s message when he told them to come to My Chem’s next show. It makes Gerard a little uncomfortable, especially because of how sweaty he is, but he greets the fans and hugs them anyway. A few people tell him they _only_ came to the show for My Chem, and he stutters out thank yous at the praise.

When he finally reaches the bar, he orders a whiskey, which, surprisingly enough, he gets for free because the bartender enjoyed their set. He raises his glass in respect for the bartender and then knocks it back, slamming the glass on the bar when he’s done. The bartender tops it off immediately, giving Gerard a knowing, sympathetic look.

Gerard drinks three more shots and insists on paying for them. After he finally gets the bartender to accept his money, he turns back to the crowd. The headlining band has drawn quite a few people, and the crowd has expanded in all directions since My Chem finished. He only has to walk a few paces until he’s swallowed up by it, becoming one of many.

The whiskey settles in his belly and he begins to feel a little more confident, which is what finally pushes him to decide to start looking for Frank. He’s still nervous; the whole setup of being strangers again is making his palms sweat and his heartbeat speed up, but he tells himself it’s just from the music and the heat of the crowd. He scans the faces that he can see, but doesn’t spot Frank among them.

The band on stage moves through three or four songs, Gerard loses count, and he tries to decide if he likes them or not but he can’t come to a conclusion. They’re hard to listen to, which he usually appreciates, but this might be a little _too_ hard.

Then, during the second chorus of a particularly loud and heavy song, Gerard spots him. He’s moving like an animal, fast and sharp and all over the place. It’d be kind of enchanting if Gerard could just stand in one place and watch, but the crowd keeps shifting around him, and he loses sight of Frank every few seconds. He slowly makes his way over, wading through the throng of people until Frank is just a few feet away. He’s about to push forward and enter Frank’s space when he freezes.

Frank isn’t dancing alone. Somehow, even with the chaos of his movements, he’s managing to stick with someone else. A _guy_ , to be specific. He looks vaguely familiar, but Gerard can’t place him with the constant movement and the low lights. Someone elbows Gerard in the stomach as they accidentally crash into him, and he’s jolted sideways, Frank and his partner slipping from view. When he’s upright again, Gerard can’t see Frank or the other guy, and he can’t spot them even after a few minutes of looking.

He’s about to give up, all his fears about Frank finding someone more interesting than Gerard returning to him, but he thinks maybe he should have a little more faith in Frank than that. They weren’t even dancing particularly intimately anyway. Maybe it was just one of Frank’s friends, or a stranger that he has no interest in.

Gerard renews his search, pushing up on his tip toes to look over the crowd and slamming his weight into people when necessary. Finally, he spots Frank’s orangey-red hair, a bit of color running down his neck from the sink dye job Gerard had helped him with yesterday. Gerard moves closer, and sees that Frank is still dancing with the same guy, but he hasn’t gotten any closer, and they’re not even really looking at each other. Gerard calms down a little, and raises a hand to grasp Frank’s shoulder. But before he can, Frank jerks towards the other guy, firmly pressing their bodies together, and pushes up on his toes. He talks into the guy’s ear, much the same way he did with Gerard when they first met. The guy smiles and nods against Frank’s face, and Gerard turns around so he doesn’t have to see the rest.

He makes his way out of the crowd as quickly as he can and ducks out a side exit. Leaning against the brick wall of the club, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket along with a lighter, lights one, and takes a deep, long drag. He exhales up towards the sky, watching the smoke mix with his foggy breath in the frigid winter air. He smokes fast, anxiously, until he’s down to the filter. And then he drops the cigarette on the ground, stomps on it, and lights another.

The second one he smokes a little slowly, but the cold is starting to get to him and he chucks it before its finished. He turns around, keeping his head down, ready to reenter the club, find Mikey, and get the fuck out. He’s just crossed the threshold when he bumps into someone on their way out.

“Sorry,” he mumbles without looking up.

Warm fingers wrap around his wrist and tug him back out the side exit. “What the heck are you doing?” a voice asks.

Gerard finally looks up, and sees Frank grinning at him. “I,” he starts. “I, um, I just–”

“Were you running away?” Frank teases.

“You were…” Gerard tries again. “The other guy.” He tosses his head in the direction of the club, hoping that’s specific enough.

Frank frowns. “What other guy?”

“The guy. The one you were dancing with.” Frank’s fingers are starting to feel uncomfortable where they’re still tightly gripping Gerard’s wrist.

“Oh! You mean Kevin?” Frank asks, and Gerard’s gut clenches. _Of course,_ he thinks, _Of_ course _it was that motherfucker_. “We just ran into each other!” Frank continues. “Hadn’t seen him in forever.”

“What did you tell him?” He tries not to sound angry, but he’s getting there, and it’s hard to keep it under wraps. Frank just gives him a confused look, so Gerard tugs his arm out of Frank’s grip and says, “When you talked in his ear, what did you say?”

“I– I don’t–” Frank can’t seem to come up with an answer, and Gerard turns towards the street and starts walking. “Gerard!” Frank calls after him. “What the fuck!”

Gerard just walks faster, eyeing his car with keys in-hand and thinking about how pissed Mikey’ll be when he realizes Gerard left without him or any of their stuff, let alone that he drove when he’s got far too much booze in him for it to be safe. He reaches the driver’s side door just as Frank grabs his shoulder and spins him around.

“What are you doing?” Frank demands.

“Leaving,” Gerard says simply and tries to escape Frank’s grip.

Frank pushes him back into the car with both hands and digs his fingers into Gerard’s shoulders. “No, you’re not. What the fuck is going on?”

Gerard can’t stop himself now, and he explodes in Frank’s face. “You wanna know what’s going on, huh, Frank? You really wanna know?”

Frank shrinks back a little at Gerard’s outburst, but he doesn’t let go, just nods for Gerard to continue, and it breaks Gerard’s heart a little.

“What’s going on is you know damn well that piece of shit is into you,” he yells, pointing an accusing finger back at the club. “You _know_ how he fucking looks at you. And you still do this shit. Grinding on him and fucking drinking shots off him, making him all wide-eyed and hard. And I’m supposed to be good with that? I’m supposed to just let that go?”

Frank drops his arms and takes a few steps back. “Gerard, I didn’t mean to–”

“Yeah?” Gerard says cruelly. “Well, you did.” It lays heavy in the air for a moment, neither of them speaking. Gerard stares Frank down, waiting for him to _do_ something, but Frank won’t even meet his eye. Finally, Gerard lets out a sigh and says, “It’s fine, really. I get it. Just– You could’ve had the common decency to break up with me first.”

“No!” Frank shouts as he steps forward, trying to reach out for Gerard again, but it’s too late. Gerard is already in the driver’s seat, turning the engine over and pulling out of the parking lot. Frank gets smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror, but Gerard wouldn’t know. He doesn’t look back.

~

It’s only when he’s been moping in his basement for over an hour that he remembers he forgot to even text Mikey that he was leaving. He’d shut his phone off as soon as he got home, just in case Frank tried to call, and had noted with a little bit of disappointment that he hadn’t missed any calls or messages during the drive home.

He rolls over in bed and grabs his phone, thumb poised on the power button, when he hears a loud thud from upstairs and then some really-trying-to-be-quiet-but-it’s-not-working laughter, and puts the phone down. Gerard can hear two sets steps cross the upper level and head towards Mikey’s room, so he assumes Mikey brought a hook-up home with him. He’d gotten kind of used to not having to hear Mikey’s flings as he hasn’t brought anyone around in a while, or if he has Gerard was probably too busy with Frank to notice. Now, Gerard can clearly hear Mikey and whoever lock themselves in Mikey’s room and slam into a few solid objects until it goes mostly quiet.

Gerard sighs and rolls back over, resigning himself to spend the night alone and miserable. He closes his eyes and begins to drift towards sleep. He’s almost dead to the world when he hears three taps that drag him back towards consciousness, but he’s reluctant to open his eyes. He figures it must be Mikey doing something upstairs, but he doesn’t understand why it would sound so close. The tapping comes again, louder and more insistent this time, and he cracks an eye open. Nothing in the room is out of order and he can’t for the life of him figure out what could be making that noise.

Just then, the taps come again from the far side of the room above the drum kit, and he turns his head towards the sound even though he can’t see anything in the darkness. The tapping doesn’t stop, so he grudgingly gets out of bed and walks to where he hears it. Suddenly, he remembers the tiny window he covered up forever ago, and realizes that an animal or something must be tapping on it outside. He pulls the curtain back and nearly falls into the drum set at what he sees.

Frank is laying on the ground with his face to the window and his finger tapping against the glass. He grins at Gerard when he sees him and holds up something Gerard can’t make out in the dark.

“Let me in? Please?” Frank asks.

Gerard sighs. “Fine,” he says. “Come around to the front, you hooligan.”

Frank’s grin widens, and he scrambles away from the window and out of sight. Gerard sighs again as he steps back and lets the curtain fall. He slides on his shoes and a hoodie as he leaves the room and takes the stairs slower than usual, not ready to face what’s at his front door.

When he finally swings the door open, he finds Frank hugging himself, shivering in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt in the freezing air. Gerard immediately steps back to let Frank come inside, his brain temporarily forgetting that he’s angry with Frank and that maybe he doesn’t want Frank in his house right now.

Frank practically jumps across the threshold, and Gerard closes the door behind him. Gerard didn’t bother to turn on any lights on his way up, so it’s still pretty dark, but he can see Frank’s gleaming smile anyway.

“What do you want?” Gerard asks, sounding less confrontational and more defeated than he’d intended.

Frank’s smile falters a little bit. “I just…” He looks down, and then seems to remember whatever he’d tried to show Gerard earlier, and waives two pieces of paper in Gerard’s face. “I have tickets! For Queen of the Damned. Midnight showing. It’s quarter till, if we leave now we can still make it.”

Gerard eyes Frank and the tickets skeptically for a moment, and then lets his shoulders slump. “Okay,” he says simply, and opens the door again.

He steps out on the porch and waits for Frank to follow him, and then locks the door behind them. They walk to Frank’s car silently, Gerard with his hands buried deep in the middle pocket of his hoodie and Frank fidgeting next to him. Gerard’s not sure if it’s because Frank’s nervous or because he’s cold, probably both.

They don’t talk on their way to the theater, and neither of them even move to touch the radio. Frank drums his fingers on the steering wheel and Gerard annoys himself by finding it kind of endearing. Finally, they reach the theater, a huge, band new cineplex that Gerard would rather not give his money to, but it’s the only theater in town that can afford to get the big movies on opening night.

Frank gives their tickets to the usher at the door and the two of them walk inside, still not having said a word to each other since they were in Gerard’s house. Frank gestures towards the concessions stand and Gerard shakes his head. He expects Frank to go stock up on candy and popcorn for himself, but he just turns towards the theater doors and the two of them walk in.

The lights go down just as they enter, and an ad for some stupid summer action flick plays onscreen. Gerard lets Frank choose where they sit, and he selects the last two seats available in the tenth row, right on the aisle. They settle in, eyes on the screen, not saying a word.

Frank shifts restlessly next to Gerard, so much so he has trouble paying attention to what’s on screen. Not that he’d really want to, it’s just previews for movies he doesn’t really want to see, but it annoys him nonetheless. He’s about to say something when the previews end and the movie starts. Frank calms down a little then, and the two of them settle in for the movie.

It’s kind of shit, Gerard decides ten minutes in, and he’s a little bit disappointed about that. But after the first installment that was not nearly gory nor gay enough, he’s not sure why he expected any better. It’s right about now that he starts wishing he had some popcorn to munch on, just to keep himself occupied, especially with the lack of action he’s getting from Frank. Not that he wants any. Not right now.

He glances to his right to see Frank staring at him, who quickly looks back at the screen. “What?” Gerard hisses.

“Nothing,” Frank says out of the side of his mouth.

Gerard huffs and turns back to the screen as well. He crosses his arms over his chest just so he won’t accidentally brush one against Frank and have things turn more awkward than they already are. They stay like that for another ten minutes or so, eyes trained on the movie and pretending like the other isn’t there.

It’s Gerard that cracks first this time. He looks at Frank for apparently just a little bit too long because Frank chooses that moment to glance at him, and their eyes meet. Gerard darts his gaze down, cheeks growing hot. He tentatively looks up again and sees Frank still staring back at him, gaze unwavering.

Frank shuffles a bit in his seat, leaning towards Gerard just a little. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, and then shuts it again.

Gerard realizes that if they’re going to talk, he’s going to have to be the one to initiate it, and he whispers, “Why did you–” right as Frank finally gets out, “I’m really sorry.”

Gerard clamps his mouth shut again, not really sure how he would have ended his own sentence anyway.

Frank nods once, nervously, and then repeats himself. “I’m really sorry,” he says, looking like he means it.

Gerard turns towards Frank a little and tries to come up with something to say. He doesn’t have to, though, because just then Frank says, “I never meant to hurt you. I’d never cheat on you, Gee.” His eyes are pleading, and Gerard has to look away.

“I know,” Gerard says, and then sighs. He does know, and that’s when he realizes the whole thing is a little bit stupid. “You weren’t even– I just– Fuck.” He looks up again and Frank’s looking like he wants to apologize a thousand times over. “I’m sorry, Frankie, I didn’t– Mmf!” Gerard can’t finish that sentence with Frank’s mouth covering his, but he’s not about to complain.

Instead, he gives into the kiss, eyes sliding shut and mouth relaxing. Frank’s hand snakes up Gerard’s arm to grip his shoulder and Gerard slides his own to the back of Frank’s neck. He tentatively swipes his tongue along Frank’s bottom lip, and Frank opens his mouth under Gerard’s. They make out like teenagers with who knows what happening on the big screen, and Gerard can’t get enough of it. He knows they shouldn’t be doing this in public, that at any moment they could get a soda dumped on them or an usher telling them they need to get the fuck out, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing Frank back harder, fiercer.

Frank groans, maybe a bit too loud, and then freezes. Gerard pulls back, panting a little. He meets Frank’s eyes and they stay like that for a moment, still nearly pressed together with the stupid arm rest in between them, digging into Gerard’s stomach.

“Wanna get out of here?” Gerard whispers.

Frank giggles. “Yeah. Movie’s shit anyway.”

They walk somewhat briskly out of the theater. Frank lags about a step behind Gerard the whole way, and Gerard’s not sure how to interpret that. When they reach Frank’s car, Frank overtakes him, digging his keys out of his pocket. They slide into their seats, but when Frank puts the key in the ignition he doesn’t turn it, and neither of them move to put their seatbelts on. Frank releases the keys and leaves them hanging there, his hand falling awkwardly onto his thigh. The heat that they had both felt back in the movie theater seems to have disappeared, leaving them yet again at a loss for what to do.

Gerard looks down at his feet, barely visible in the dark. The chill of the night is pressing in on the car, and Gerard kind of wishes Frank would at least turn the heat on, but he stays silent. Frank lets out a long breath which makes Gerard look up at him. Their eyes meet, and Gerard has every intention of looking away, but for some reason he can’t.

“I’m really sorry, Gee,” Frank repeats. His voice sounds rough, and Gerard’s not sure if it’s from the whispering and making out in the theater, or from sadness. He really hopes it’s the former.

Gerard sighs and finally looks away. “I know, Frankie, I know. It was stupid of me to get so upset.”

“No!” Frank says suddenly, his voice ringing loudly throughout the car. Their eyes meet again, and Frank slowly lets out a breath. “No. You were right, I know Kevin’s kinda into me. I just…” He makes a frustrated noise. “I was waiting for you to find me, and I ran into him, and I kinda liked the idea of you stepping in, stealing me away from someone else. I wasn’t thinking about how bad it looked.”

Frank’s hand had started sliding anxiously back and forth on his thigh as he talked, so Gerard reaches out and covers it with his own. Frank looks down at where their hands are joined. Gerard sees a smile play at the corner of his mouth before he turns his hand over and weaves his fingers together with Gerard’s. He brings their hands up to his mouth and kisses Gerard’s knuckles softly.

“Thank you for coming out here with me,” Frank says. “I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to win you over.”

 “You?” Gerard chuckles. “I could never say no to you, Frankie.” He means for it to be light, conversational, but it comes out heavy. Their eyes meet again and Frank’s face has pulled into a serious expression, looking like Gerard’s words are rolling around, clicking into place.

Frank lowers their hands back down to his thigh, his eyes not leaving Gerard’s. Slowly, his mouth shifts into a smile, and then he’s beaming at Gerard and Gerard is beaming right back. Frank laughs, clear and sweet and perfect. “You know, Gee, I think you might regret telling me that,” he says teasingly. “I could use it to my advantage.”

Gerard laughs with him, feeling his chest expand and his cheeks heat up. “You’ve already talked me into having sex in a bathroom stall, what else d’you have up your sleeve?”

Frank just smiles mischievously and releases Gerard’s hand. “Oh, don’t worry,” he says as he turns the key in the ignition. “I can think of a few things.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spring semester started so unfortunately I have to go back to publishing once a week on Saturdays. I'm hoping to finish this story in the next few weeks but I honestly have no idea how long it's going to be. It might end up at 100k+.
> 
> Side note, I made a goal to write 40k over winter break and I made it!!

Things get a little hectic with both their bands and with Frank nearing the end of his sophomore year of college, but they manage to retain some sort of normalcy around their relationship for the following months. My Chem gets more and more shows, all of them at clubs. Eyeball puts them up in a practice space in the same building as Pencey’s, so Gerard can finally have his basement back, not that he really minded sacrificing some floor space for his band. The label calls them every other day it seems to give them an update on their studio time, and it looks like they’re finally zeroing in on a week in March when suddenly it’s pushed back to late April. Gerard can’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved.

Ray seems to have grown more and more frustrated about the fact that he can’t play certain parts live, and Gerard notices Mikey comforting him about it more often than anyone else. Gerard hadn’t noticed when they got so close, but all of a sudden it seems Mikey spends more time with Ray than he does with anyone else. Gerard’s not jealous, he’s _not_ , but it’s weird to him that Mikey hasn’t talked to him about it. There’s a lot of things they don’t talk to each other about anymore.

For all of them, time seems to speed up, moving faster and faster as the months go on. Suddenly, they’re three weeks out from recording, and Gerard can’t seem to keep himself calm for a few hours at a time when all he can think about is how little material they have that’s worthy of taking into the studio, how they _need_ a second guitarist, how he still wants screamer. How he’s so sure none of this is going to work out.

On top of all of it, money’s gotten even tighter. Gerard has been forced to take on more commissions than he ever would under normal circumstances, just so they can afford to keep going. Signing with Eyeball has certainly helped, but not enough that they aren’t still struggling. As it is, between the band and trying to make any money where he can, Gerard’s seen a lot less of Frank than he’d like. It feels like he blinks and another day has gone by, with only hurried texts or phone calls between them. He wishes they could go back to when spending a week apart was unheard of for them, but unfortunately that’s not the case anymore.

The shrill ring of Gerard’s phone distracts him from the commission he’s been working on, and he throws a glance at the caller ID out of habit. The piece is due in two days, and he’s only just started it, so he doesn’t really have any intention of picking up the phone. But when he sees “FRANK” lit up in bright letters, he plops his paintbrush in a dirty cup of water and answers it immediately.

“Hey,” he says.

Instead of a greeting, Frank says, “Wanna go for a drive?”

Gerard checks the time. Half past midnight. He throws a glance at his unfinished painting, hesitates for maybe a second, and then says, “Sure. I can–”

“I’m outside,” Frank tells him and hangs up.

Gerard stares at his phone in confusion for a moment before kicking into gear. He pulls on a hoodie and his shoes, grabbing his wallet and keys on his way out. He locks the front door behind him and then trudges across the lawn to where Frank’s car sits against the curb, engine running.

Gerard yanks open the passenger door and slides into the seat. Frank looks at him, but doesn’t smile, and Gerard notices that his whole body looks tense. Even though it’s almost summer, it’s still chilly out in the middle of he night, and Frank’s certainly not dressed for the weather wearing a thin t-shirt on over a pair of cargo shorts, with no jacket in sight.

“Hey,” Gerard says again. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Frank says as Gerard puts on his seatbelt and the car peels away from the curb. “Just wanna drive.”

“Okay,” Gerard says simply.

They drive in silence for a while, until Frank slides a Black Flag CD into the player and then any conversation they could have been having becomes impossible. Finally, after nearly an hour of tooling all over Belleville about six hundred times, Frank parks and turns the car off.

Frank turns around in his seat and grabs a paper bag from the back. “Come on,” he says before getting out of the car.

Gerard gets out and follows him, and only then does he realize where they are. Frank pushes open the gate, and Gerard looks up at the “HOLY CROSS CEMETERY” sign and hesitates. He stands there for a moment, watching Frank’s back as he walks determinedly away. With a sigh, Gerard follows.

They walk through the tombstones for a while, and Gerard watches Frank carefully. He seems to be looking for the perfect spot, and he eventually finds it, plopping down in front of a large, marble headstone. He draws his knees up and places the paper bag between his thighs. Gerard sits down next to him, still watching Frank curiously.

Frank roots around in the bag for a few moments before extracting two bottles of beer, a bag of weed, and some rolling papers. He hands a beer to Gerard, which he gladly accepts, and then turns around to use the top of the tombstone to roll a joint. He digs a lighter out of his back pocket as he turns back around and puts the bag of weed away. Gerard takes a sip of his beer and watches Frank light the end of the joint, watches him inhale slowly, and let it out even slower.

Frank offers Gerard the joint, and he takes it. They sit like that for a while, passing the joint back and forth and sipping from their beers in silence. Finally, when the joint is almost gone, Frank says, “I think Pencey’s done.”

Gerard nearly drops the bottle. “What?” he says stupidly.

Frank sighs. He looks straight ahead, out into the black night of the graveyard. “Everything’s gone to shit. The second album isn’t happening. Tim and Neil are fucking unbearable. Shawn and Hambone wanna make different music. And I–” Frank chokes off then, and looks down at his lap. “I have no fucking clue what I want to do.”

“Frankie,” Gerard says tentatively. Frank doesn’t look at him. “Frankie,” he says again as he places a warm hand on Frank’s shoulder. Frank seems to deflate. He curls into Gerard, who wraps his arms around Frank’s back and just lets Frank cry. It’s only one of a handful of times Gerard’s seen Frank cry, and he hates it. He hates it, he hates it, he hates it, and he wants to punch whatever makes Frank feel this way in the fucking face. But he can’t punch all of Frank’s band, and that wouldn’t solve the problem anyway. Instead, he settles for gently stroking up and down Frank’s back and whispering calming things in his ear.

“It’ll be all right, I promise,” he says softly. Frank sniffles and clutches at the back of Gerard’s hoodie. “Don’t worry, babe, don’t worry. It’ll all work out.”

It feels weird for Gerard to be so sad while he’s stoned, the usual giddiness he gets from smoking weed battling it out with the sympathy he feels for Frank, and the weed is losing badly. He wonders if Frank brought it in an attempt to cheer himself up. This is _all_ in an attempt to cheer himself up, Gerard guesses. And it’s obviously not working.

“Hey,” Gerard says after Frank lets out a particularly loud sob. “Shh, Frankie. It’s okay.” Frank grips harder at his jacket, his fingers clutching the fabric so tightly Gerard can feel his nails diggin in. “I’m here, it’s okay.”

After a long while, Frank pulls back, and his eyes are red and puffy and his face is streaked with tears. Gerard moves one hand up to Frank’s cheek and wipes away a tear with his thumb, gently smiling at Frank. Frank smiles back, a tiny, broken smile that barely makes it onto his lips before his face falls again. He stares off blankly, eyes not focusing on anything, and Gerard just sits with him and continues to wipe the tears from his face.

Gerard eventually drops his hand to Frank’s shoulder, his other still holding Frank around his back. Frank’s face looks completely empty. Gerard can barely stand to look at him, it hurts so much.

“I know…” Frank heaves a heavy sigh and looks down at his feet. “I know I complain about them a lot–”

“Frank, no–” Gerard starts, but Frank shakes his head and Gerard shuts up.

“I know I made it seem like I didn’t want this. But I– I don’t fucking know what to _do_ without this. It’s my whole fucking life and I can’t just–” Frank’s voice breaks. He takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky. Gerard follows his eyes and sees the clouds parting, the moon peering through them. Gerard looks back at Frank as he begins talking again. “I need this fucking band. If it fails, I fail.”

Their eyes finally meet as Frank breaks off. Frank blinks slowly as he looks at Gerard. His hair falls in his face, almost obscuring it, but Gerard can see his eyes, the sorrow in them and how lost he looks. Gerard is at a loss for words for a moment, and it frustrates him. He wants to come up with the perfect thing to make Frank laugh, to make him forget that any of this ever happened, to make him happy. But he can’t. The words don’t exist.

Gerard sets his jaw and squares his shoulders. He pushes Frank’s hair out of his face tenderly and says, “Music is your calling, right?” Frank swallows and nods twice. Gerard recalls what Frank has told him of the bands he’s done in the past. “And you’ve been doing it a long time, and you’ve been struggling for a long time.” Frank nods again. “And with Pencey, you got signed and you put out a record and you went on tour. And now it’s over.” Frank gives Gerard a confused look. Gerard swipes his thumb over Franks cheekbone and smiles a little. “After all that, how could you possibly have failed?”

Frank furrows brow and sits up a little. “Gee, Pencey’s done. You said it, it’s over.”

“Yeah, but look at all you did, all the things you put out into the world. It’s like–” Gerard stops, looking for a metaphor that fits. “It’s like a relationship. When two people are together a long time and then break up, it’s considered a failed relationship. But they both learned about themselves and each other and grew as people, and they both probably had good experiences and made lasting memories. So why is it considered a failure just because it ended?”

Frank keeps looking at him skeptically. “Are you trying to tell me to just be grateful it happened?”

“No! You should be angry and sad and disappointed and whatever else you’re feeling. But you shouldn’t think of Pencey as a failure, and you shouldn’t think of yourself that way either.”

“Hmm,” Frank says, sounding like he’s only somewhat convinced. “I still think we could’ve done more. If we weren’t idiots.”

“Maybe. But you _were_ idiots,” Gerard teases, and Frank throws him an unamused glance. “And _you_ can still do more. A lot more, Frankie.” Gerard pauses for a moment, considering. “What kind of music do Shawn and Hambone want to make?”

Frank looks surprised, like he hadn’t expected Gerard to be listening so closely to him earlier. “Um, I dunno. Just not Pencey, I guess.”

“Maybe you should talk to them, see if it’s the same kind of music you’d wanna make.”

Frank nods, maybe even smiles a little, though Gerard can’t see his face properly as his hair has fallen in it again. “Yeah, maybe I’ll ask.”

Gerard releases his hold on Frank and the two of them go back to drinking silently. The clouds shift in front of the moon again, obscuring the light it had cast over the cemetery. Gerard can hardly see anything, but he notices when Frank starts to shiver. “Okay, time to go,” he says.

Frank groans and protests when Gerard tries to drag him to his feet. “No, I wanna stay out here forever. Leave me, Gerard.”

Gerard can’t help but laugh. “Come on, you loser.” He finally gets Frank to stand up, and then decides that, while neither of them are particularly safe to drive, Frank is a lot more wasted than he is. “Gimme your keys,” he says when they reach Frank’s car.

Frank doesn’t even comment, just digs his keys out of his pocket, tosses them to Gerard and then walks around to the passenger side. Frank settles in easily, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the window. Gerard hesitates about where to take them at first, and then decides that Frank will probably want to be home when he wakes up, and takes them over to his apartment.

He drags Frank up the stairs and uses his keys to let them in, pulling Frank through the living room and kitchen (and accidentally bumping them into a few things in the dark) before dumping him on the bed. Frank curls up under the blankets immediately, content to sleep with his clothes and shoes still on. Gerard pulls off his hoodie and removes his shoes before untying Frank’s Converse and sliding into bed beside him.

He closes his eyes, intending to go to sleep as he’d assumed Frank was there already, but then Frank says, “Thanks, Gee. For talking me through it,” and he opens his eyes again.

Frank is looking back at him with sleepy eyes. “Don’t mention it,” Gerard says. “Get some sleep.”

Frank nods. “Aye, aye, Captain Ahab,” he says as he closes his eyes again.

Gerard snorts a laugh. “Dork.” He snuggles up to Frank, who throws and arm around Gerard’s waist. “Goodnight, Starbuck.”

~

It’s a little bit too much, recording an album, or at least Gerard has decided it is. They haven’t even actually started recording yet and he’s already feeling massively overwhelmed, not that he really expected anything less. He knew this was coming. He knew he wouldn’t know how to handle it.

It would be a little easier, he thinks, if Frank were there to offer his advice, but Frank is busy preparing for the last show of I Am A Graveyard, the second band he’s been in that’s broken up in less than a month. To get through it, Frank will need Gerard’s help more than the other way around. Gerard’s pretty sure Frank would get tired of walking Gerard through the smallest of decisions anyway.

So, that job has fallen to Mikey, who at least is used to Gerard’s constant second guessing himself. He stands in front of Gerard where he’s sitting on his bed and tries to knock some sense into him. “If you think it’s good enough for the studio, then it’s good enough for the studio,” Mikey says for the hundredth time. “No one’s gonna toss us out for having a few unfinished songs. It’s not ideal, sure, but it’s not unusual.”

“I know, Mikes, I just–” Gerard breaks off, unsure how to finish that statement without sounding like a total whiney idiot.

“Don’t want to disappoint anyone?” Mikey offers, and Gerard nods. “Gee,” Mikey moves to sit next to Gerard on his bed, “no one is gonna be disappointed in your writing, or your performance. It’s you. Everyone knows you have this, this _genius_ locked away in you somewhere and finally it’s gonna show itself.” Mikey laughs a little. “It’s fucking exciting, is what it is.”

Gerard lays a hand on Mikey’s shoulder and their eyes meet. “Thank you, Mikes,” he says sincerely. He brings Mikey into a tight hug, a little awkward what with how they’re sitting on the bed and Mikey’s pointy elbows digging into Gerard, but they make it work.

Mikey gets up when they part. “Toro’s coming to pick me up soon, we’re gonna go see The Scorpion King… You wanna come?” he asks, sounding like he already knows Gerard’s going to say no.

“Nah, I’m gonna go see Frank play,” Gerard says with a small smile. Mikey nods.

“Okay. See you later, then,” Mikey says as he leaves the basement.

“Yeah,” Gerard calls into the empty space. “See you.”

He thinks through all their songs one more time, again trying to decide whether there’s some they shouldn’t even bother bringing to the studio. But they can’t exactly afford to do that with how few songs they have in the first place, and Gerard gives up after a few minutes. He should probably leave for Frank’s show anyway.

He heads upstairs, finding the house empty except for his grandmother as Mikey’s already left and his parents are still at work. “Bye, Gramma,” he calls to Elena as he leaves, though he’s not sure she even hears him with the TV tuned to some soap opera or another.

On the drive to the venue, Gerard wonders how Frank will deal with I Am A Graveyard breaking up. He hasn’t said much about it so far, only mentioning that they had fun while it lasted, but it wasn’t meant to last long.

The club is already nearly full when Gerard gets there, and he only has a few minutes to get himself a drink and find a spot in the crowd before Graveyard takes the stage. Their following is mostly the same as Pencey’s, and Gerard recognizes a few familiar faces in the audience. While Graveyard and Pencey definitely aren’t the same, the crowd goes just as hard. Gerard nearly loses his beer in the process, but he can’t take his eyes of Frank enough for it to bother him much anyway.

When the show is over, he waits for Frank right off the backstage area. He could probably tell security that he’s with the band, but he doesn’t want to intrude if Frank and his bandmates are having a final meeting. After a while, John and Shaun come walking out, carrying equipment and sad expressions. They both smile when they see Gerard, though, and Gerard smiles back.

It’s a few more minutes before Frank appears, toting a guitar case. “Hey,” he says as he approaches Gerard.

“Hey. How’re you doing?” Gerard asks softly.

Frank shrugs. “Not too bad, actually. Can we go home?”

“Yeah. Totally.”

They take Gerard’s car, because Frank carpooled with his bandmates, and Gerard heads in the direction of Frank’s apartment without even having to ask. They’re both silent for a while, but then Frank says, “It’s not as bad as it was with Pencey, I think because we dragged that out way fucking longer than it was meant to. Graveyard was good, and we don’t hate each other now or anything.” Frank takes a deep breath. “I’m okay.”

Frank sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, but Gerard doesn’t comment on it. “I’m glad,” he says instead, and offers an encouraging smile.

When they get to Frank’s apartment, they don’t do much other than snuggle up in bed and go to sleep. Gerard’s exhausted from planning stuff out before going into the studio, so he’s more than happy to just have Frank’s warm body lying next to his. They’ve been doing this more and more often, skipping sex and just going straight to sleep. It’s not because the sex isn’t good anymore, not at all. They just don’t need it to feel close to one another, and sometimes, the things Frank says in his sleep are even more satisfying than sex anyway.

Gerard wraps his arm around Frank’s middle, feels Frank’s steady heartbeat against his chest. Frank mumbles “That tomato’s too expensive, you fuck,” and Gerard smiles. Yeah, this is definitely better than sex.

~

Tomorrow. They go into the studio _tomorrow_ and Gerard can’t quite believe it. The problem is, they still haven’t found a second guitarist, and the label is on their ass about whether they need to find someone to come in to the studio or not. Not to mention Ray’s constant worrying that they need a more dynamic sound for the album.

“I’m just saying,” Gerard says, trying to calm Ray down, “it’s not the worse case scenario to do the album without a new member and look for one once we’re done, okay?” They’re in the practice space, seated in a circle to talk about some last-minute things before tomorrow. Gerard has both knees bouncing vigorously, unable to contain his anxiety.

Ray looks at Gerard from across the circle where he’s sitting backwards in his chair, straddling it. “I think if we can’t make a decision about a new member ourselves, we should call Geoff and see what he can do on such short notice.” Gerard looks away. “We _need_ someone, Gee.”

“Ray’s right,” Mikey pipes, up and Gerard looks at him. Mikey is sitting normally in the chair on Gerard’s right, seemingly calm unlike the rest of them. “What happened to you wanting a screamer, anyway?”

“I–” Gerard starts, but Matt cuts him off with a light smack on his shoulder.

“Yeah, man! We _totally_ need a screamer.” Matt pauses and looks around the circle. “Do we know anyone who could do both?”

Ray rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t–”

“Frank,” Mikey says. Gerard whirls around to look at him. Mikey meets Gerard’s eyes and stares him down. “We should ask him.”

Gerard’s mouth falls open. “Mikey–” he starts to say, but he can’t finish the thought. _Does he know what he’s asking?_ Gerard can’t imagine Mikey does, he would never expect Mikey to ask them to break up for the band, especially not when they _could_ find someone else. Except, now that Gerard’s thinking about it, Frank is exactly what seems to be missing from My Chem. He’s exactly what they need, and Gerard knows he’ll be all too happy to accept an invitation to join. It hurts a little. Or maybe a lot, but he can’t think about it right now.

“Dude,” Matt says, “you’re so right, holy shit.”

“Yeah, we should totally ask Frankie. He’d be great, I’d love to see how we’d work together,” Ray says.

Gerard and Mikey are still looking at each other. “Gerard?” Mikey asks.

Gerard swallows hard, and then nods. “Yeah. Okay, yeah. I’ll ask him.” Mikey nods back and finally looks away.

Ray is smiling wide. “Okay, then,” he says. “So, I think we should…”

They go on talking about band business for a while. Gerard should probably be paying attention, but he can’t think about anything other than the decision he’s just made. If Frank is in the band, they can’t be together. Simple as that. And there’s no way Frank will pass up an opportunity to be in My Chem. Which means Gerard has to either lie to his band about asking Frank and pretend he said no, which no one would buy and would make him feel terribly guilty for the rest of his life anyway, or he has to break up with Frank but continue to be around him whenever they’re doing band stuff. _Excellent_ , he thinks as he rubs his eyes.

“You okay, Gee?” Ray asks.

Gerard looks up. Ray’s face is painted with concern, and Gerard feels a little bad for being so obviously out of it. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Just thinking.”

His band goes back to talking, and he tries his best to stay engaged, but he just can’t. His mind keeps drifting back to Frank, and the fact that they’re going into the studio _tomorrow_ which means that he’ll need to call Frank tonight, pretty much right when their meeting is done. If Frank says yes– _when_ Frank says yes, he’ll have to call Geoff and inform him that Frank will be joining them in the studio and in the band and on tour and wherever else Frank will need to be. He finds it a little bit hilariously ironic, because he’d been disappointed at how little Frank had been a part of his life in the past few months with how busy they’d both gotten, but this will mean that the two of them will see each other all the time. Gerard’s not sure how he’ll stand it.

After what feels like a lifetime, the meeting ends.

“You okay?” Mikey asks Gerard as they all make their way out of the building.  

“Yeah. Just… Frank,” Gerard says a little sadly.

Mikey nods. “It’ll be good.”

“Yeah.”

Matt takes off, and Gerard waves as Mikey and Ray get in Ray’s car together. He resigns himself to drive home alone. He knows he’d be invited if he asked, but he doesn’t much feel like hanging out with anyone right now anyway.

He pulls out his phone once he gets in his car, intending to call Frank right away. He procrastinates for a truly impressive amount of time, going through everything on his phone and examining it closely, including listening to every single ringtone. Eventually, there’s no way he can continue to pretend he shouldn’t be on the phone with Frank right now, offering him a spot in My Chem. He heaves a heavy sigh for no one but himself, and presses the call button.

“Hey!” Frank greets him.

“Hey,” he says with none of the same enthusiasm. It’s then that Gerard realizes he really can’t do this over the phone. “Are you home?” he asks.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I’m on my way over,” Gerard says without bothering to clarify and hangs up.

On the drive over to Frank’s, Gerard can’t sit still. He bounces his left knee up and down while trying his hardest to keep the right one steady on the pedals, and he can’t keep his hands from moving restlessly over the wheel. Finally, he pulls up outside of Frank’s apartment building and cuts the engine.

He sits in the car for a moment, thinking about what has to be said. Deep breath. He gets out of the car and heads inside.

Frank greets Gerard at the door to his apartment, looking confused but happy to see him. “What’s up?” he asks as the door swings shut.

“We go into the studio. Tomorrow,” Gerard says.

Frank nods. “I know. Fucking exciting as hell, right?’

“Yeah… Frankie, I–” Gerard starts but Frank cuts him off.

“You want something to drink?” he says, moving towards the kitchen.

“Um,” Gerard says, a little stunned. “A beer?” He’s pretty sure he was doing his I Have Something Serious To Tell You voice and Frank usually doesn’t interrupt that. Frank doesn’t usually interrupt him at all, but especially not when Gerard is saying something important. He follows Frank into the kitchen and accepts the beer Frank holds out for him. “So, um, I have something to tell you.”

Frank twists the cap open on his beer and takes a sip, looking somewhere over Gerard’s left shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I–” Frank starts darting his eyes to the doorway like he wants to fucking bolt. “What is it?”

“Huh?” Frank says, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

“Frank, you’re looking for an escape route. What’s going on?” Gerard sets his beer down on the kitchen counter and looks at Frank dead on.

Frank shrugs. “You’re going into the studio tomorrow, which means your life gets a whole lot fucking bigger.” He pauses for a second, and then in a smaller voice he says, “And I’m guessing what you have to tell me is I’m too small for it now.”

Gerard can actually feel his heart breaking at the hurt in Frank’s words, how much he obviously believes them. “Oh my God, Frankie, _no_ I wouldn’t–” He takes a tentative step forward. Frank stays where he is, looking Gerard in the eye. “It’s not that. Not at all.” Gerard lets out an exasperated chuckle at how weird this situation is turning out.

“Well are you gonna tell me what it is, then?” Frank says, sounding a little impatient.

“Yeah. Um. We decided we need a second guitarist. And a screamer. For the band.” Gerard barely gets the words out, stumbling over his sentences trying to complete the thought.

Frank looks at him even more confusedly. “And?”

Gerard takes a big breath before saying, “And we were hoping that would be you.”

For a moment, Frank’s facial expression doesn’t change. And then his mouth twitches at the corners and his eyes widen. Soon, his lips are stretching into a wide grin and he’s taking the last few steps to close the distance between the two of them. “You’re asking me to be in My Chem?” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gerard can’t speak. He nods.

Frank laughs, surprised. He smacks his palm to his forehead and grins even wider. “I can’t fucking believe it. You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Gerard croaks.

“I don’t know what to say. I mean, _yes_ , I’m saying yes. But– Holy shit, wow.”

“Frankie, you know this means…” Gerard can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Frank’s smile falters a little. “Means what?”

“It means that we– We can’t, you know, um.” As Gerard speaks, Frank’s smile falls completely and his eyebrows draw together. “We can’t be together,” Gerard finishes weakly.

“Oh,” is all Frank says.

“Yeah.”

There’s an awkward pause where they both look anywhere but each other, and then Frank says, “So, you’re still breaking up with me then.”

Gerard sighs, staring at his shoes. “I want to be with you. And I want you in the band.” He meets Frank’s eyes then. “But we can’t have it both ways.”

“What if–”

Gerard can already see Frank trying to spin some situation in which they _could_ have both, and Gerard has to put a stop to that before he gets his hopes up. “No, Frankie, I’m sorry. It won’t work. Things could get messy. And–” And this part is the hardest for him to say. “And if we had a fight, like the ones we’ve had, it could jeopardize the band. It won’t work.”

Frank is silent for a moment. He taps his foot a few times and glances around the kitchen, thinking. Finally, he sighs, defeated. “You’re right.”

Gerard nods, saying nothing. He thinks maybe he should apologize again, but that might also make things worse.

“We’ll be friends though, right?” Frank asks hopefully.

Gerard smiles a little. “Yeah. Totally.”

“And we’ll get to hang out all the time.”

Gerard nods again. “Yep.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

There’s another pause, and then suddenly they’re on each other. Frank has a hand fisted in Gerard’s hair while Gerard’s fingers dig into Frank’s hips. Their mouths are crushed together in a searing kiss, no hesitation or regrets between them. Frank pushes Gerard up against the kitchen wall and kisses him even harder.

Gerard gasps for breath when they part. “Frankie, we–”

“Can’t. I know,” Frank says, and dives right back in for more.

They stay like that for what feels like forever, kissing like the world is ending. Finally, Frank wrenches himself away from Gerard and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Gerard’s stomach clenches at the sight.

Gerard stands against the wall awkwardly for a moment before he comes back to himself. “We’re due at the studio at noon tomorrow. We’ll be up there a week.”

Frank nods. “Text me the address. I’ll be there.”

“Sure.” Gerard stands in the kitchen staring at Frank for a moment longer before tearing his eyes away and marching out of the apartment. He makes it out of the building and all the way to his car without looking back, but when he’s sat in the driver’s seat he can’t help but stare up at the window he knows is Frank’s. The blinds are drawn.

Gerard starts the engine and drives away.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is super inaccurate, both to what recording any album is like (probably) and to what the recording of Bullets was like, specifically, based on what we know from In the Studio 2002. I'm a little sad about that because In the Studio is probably my favorite piece of MCR footage ever and it never fails to cheer me up. But instead, I give you some intense, sad times. Sorry again.

That night, Gerard doesn’t sleep. Even with the alcohol rolling through him, trying to usher him into unconsciousness, his brain is restless. He can’t stop thinking about how he’s not allowed to touch or kiss or be with Frank anymore, but they’re going to be seeing each other more than ever now. It’s with this thought that Gerard realizes he’s thrust himself into his own little hell. He groans and rolls over again, craning his neck towards the alarm clock to check the time. 3:22 am. It’s not all that late for him on an average night, but he still has to pack up half his shit when he gets up before he and Mikey leave for the hotel at 9:30 in the fucking morning.

He rolls over and scrunches his eyes shut, concentrating really, really hard on sleep. It works for a few minutes, his body relaxing and his thoughts growing looser, but then his anxiety jolts him awake again. Frustrated, Gerard groans and rolls over once more, this time to turn on the light. The weak glow of the lamp floods the room and he pulls himself up into sitting position, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand. He drags himself to the bathroom to piss, and when he’s washing his hands he accidentally gets a look at himself in the mirror.

He looks like death. To be specific, he looks vampiric, with his pale skin and red-rimmed eyes. It’s actually a pretty cool aesthetic, if he’s being honest, and it sort of makes him feel like he’s method acting to get more into a character.

He shuts the water off and heads back to his room, deciding to make the night productive in some way if it’s not going to be spent sleeping. He picks up his notepad from where it rests on his dresser and flips to the first clean page. Plopping down on the edge of his bed, Gerard begins to write.

It’s dark, darker than most stuff he’s written so far. But it’s not just the blood and the murder that makes the lyrics upsetting, it’s how heartbreaking the song is. “Running away and hiding with you. I hope they never get me here. Not knowing you’d change from just one bite…” he writes, and the words seem to pour out of him. He writes and writes and writes as fast as he can until his hand is numb and his mind is blank. Finally, he looks back at what he’s written.

He can imagine now how the last line will sound, the music dying and only his own voice ringing out, saying, “There’s a corpse in this bed.”

He sets the notepad on his bedside table and switches off the light. As he lies in bed, the space next to him feels cold, empty, and dead.

~

Mikey drives them upstate. Gerard is thankful for it because he can’t manage to get his eyes to focus. Getting shitfaced the night before their first day in the studio probably wasn’t a good idea, but whatever, he needed it. There was no way he was getting through what happened between him and Frank without _something_ to help him take the edge off.

_Shit. Frank_ , he thinks, remembering what going into the studio means now that Frank is part of My Chem.

“So Frank will be there?” Mikey asks, seemingly reading Gerard’s thoughts.

“He said he would be.” Gerard had managed to text Frank the addresses for the hotel and the studio, even offering Frank a ride with him and Mikey. Frank turned it down.

Mikey nods. “Cool.”

They pass most of the drive in silence. Gerard alternates between staring out the window and closing his eyes when the scenery rushing by makes his head pound. After a little more than an hour on the road, they reach the hotel. Gerard helps bring in their bags, but probably shouldn’t have been put in charge of his own body let alone heavy luggage because he nearly drops everything about seven times on their way into the lobby.

At the front desk, Geoff is already there checking in, toting a suitcase of his own. He turns when he hears Gerard and Mikey enter and then smiles wide.

“Hey, guys!” Geoff says. “Good to see you here. The studio is just a few minutes away, so head on over there once you’re settled.” The receptionist hands him his room key then, and he heads off down the hall.

Mikey checks him and Gerard into their shared room, and only then does Gerard realize he doesn’t know who Frank will be rooming with. He’s not even sure there are any open spots. He doesn’t have time to worry about it now though, as Mikey is leading them out of the lobby towards their room.

They dump their stuff on their respective beds, only stopping long enough to pee and grab the complimentary water bottles before heading back out to the car. Mikey follows the directions Gerard had scribbled on a piece of paper while Geoff explained them over the phone weeks ago, and they soon the find the studio. Or, at least, they think they have.

It’s definitely the right address, but it doesn’t look like a studio at all. It’s just a house. A house that looks like an old lady lives in it, no less. Mikey just shrugs at Gerard and they get out and start unpacking the car. When they reach the front door, Gerard pauses for a moment before awkwardly ringing the doorbell. He hears it chime inside and waits almost a full minute before the door swings open and Geoff greets them again, flanked by a man Gerard has never seen before.

“Long time no see!” Geoff says with a smile. “Come in, we’ll get all your stuff set up downstairs.”

“Downstairs?” Gerard says.

“Yeah, that’s where the studio is,” Geoff answers, and then pauses once Mikey and Gerard are inside. “Oh, you haven’t met, have you?” He gestures to the man next to him. “This is John Naclerio, owner of Nada Studios. John, this is Gerard and Mikey, our lead singer and bassist.”

John shakes Mikey’s hand and then Gerard’s. “Good to finally meet you. This is my mother’s house, actually. But I have a pretty sweet set up in the basement. Come on.”

Gerard and Mikey share a look, but follow the other two men downstairs. It’s not that Gerard minds basements, they’re his natural habitat after all, but he kind of thought that signing with a record label and recording in a studio would mean he finally got to work creatively somewhere other than a basement. Not that he’s complaining.

And he is especially not complaining when he sees just how sweet the setup in the basement really is. He’s in a _real studio_ , and the realization hits Gerard hard. He stands in the doorway for a moment, stunned, before stumbling into the room behind the others. There’s a huge soundboard with a big, cushy swivel chair in front of it that John sits down in. Behind the soundboard is large window, and beyond that a recording room. Directly behind the glass looks to be a vocalist’s mic, with other mics set up around the room for various instruments. Gerard involuntarily sits down in one of the couches pushed against the wall, his legs seemingly giving up while his brain takes in his surroundings.

“You guys are the first ones here,” John says as he turns around in the chair to face them.

“Huh. It’s pretty weird for us to be early,” Mikey says. He’s right, the Way brothers are generally never on time let alone ahead of it, but Gerard knows today was the exception with the way his anxiety woke him up an hour before his alarm went off (even though he got to sleep so late) and was ready to go even before Mikey was.

“I’m sure the other guys will be here soon,” Geoff says. As if on cue, the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” Geoff offers and races up the stairs to greet whoever has just arrived.

Gerard stares at the floor and listens closely to the voices upstairs, trying to pick out if one of them is Frank’s. It’s only Ray and Matt, though, and Gerard breathes a sigh of relief when they emerge from the doorway behind Geoff. They greet Mikey and Gerard before they’re introduced to John, shaking hands and smiling wide. Gerard can tell Matt and Ray are just as excited as he is to be working in a _real, actual, bonafide studio_ , even if they’re not literally weak-kneed about it like he is.

“God, I just want to start, like, _now_ , ya know?” Ray says. He’s moving his hands restlessly and eying the guitars set up against the wall.

“We could,” John offers. “If you’re ready.”

Ray’s eyes bug out. “Seriously?” John nods, and Ray actually fist pumps. Gerard slides forward to sit on the edge of the couch, readying himself to start their practice session, but then Ray pauses. “We should probably wait for Frankie, right?” He looks between Mikey and Gerard for an answer.

Gerard looks at Mikey, who shrugs, and says, “I dunno. It’s past noon anyway.” _Maybe he’s not coming after all_ , Gerard thinks a little sadly.

“I have something new,” Gerard finds himself saying. Without thinking too hard about it, he crosses the room and plucks his backpack from among the amps and gig bags they brought down, rooting through it until he finds his notepad. He flips to the page with the newest song, the one he wrote last night. “I just have lyrics so far. Here, tell me what you think,” he says as he hands the notepad to Ray before reclaiming his seat on the couch.

Ray reads through it and hums thoughtfully a few times. “It’s slow. I can hear it. Here.” He picks a guitar seemingly at random, but Gerard knows Ray chose this one specifically, and for a reason Gerard will probably never fully understand. He sits down in one of the chairs across the room and places the guitar in his lap.

Mikey settles in on the couch next to Gerard while John sits in the big swivel chair. Matt leans against the wall with his arms crossed and Geoff stands next to him, looking excited. John quickly grabs a tape recorder and sets it on the coffee table in front of Gerard. “Just for the time being,” he says.

Ray plays a few notes before handing the notepad back to Gerard. “Go for it,” he says, and starts playing the notes again.

Gerard listens for a few moments, locking in with Ray on his wavelength, and then pulls a melody absolutely out of nowhere. “Late dawns and early sunsets,” he sings. It’s hard with no one playing a melody to help him along, but he gets the feel for what Ray is putting down, and starts to get into it. Just then, Mikey stands up and walks across the room to where the guitars are stashed. He picks up his bass – actually his now that he’s bought his own – and figures out a bassline that works with what Ray is playing.

Gerard keeps singing, but then the song changes, becomes more intense. “But does anyone notice? But does anyone care? And if I had the guts to put this to your head?” He jumps up an octave on instinct, just going with it. He glances at Geoff and Matt, both of them nodding their heads along. John looks positively thrilled at what’s unfolding before him, so Gerard keeps going. “And in saying you loved me made things harder, at best,” he sings. The song changes again, and he sings louder. His voice grows rough around the edges. Mikey drops out and now it’s just him nearly screaming while Ray keeps going. “And there’s no room in this hell. There’s no room in the next. But does anyone notice,” and then Ray drops out as well and he sings, broken and ragged, “there’s a corpse in this bed.”

He’s breathing hard, and all the guys are looking at each other in stunned silence. Gerard feels adrenaline coursing through him in a way that he’s never before felt when they’ve practiced. 

“Fuck,” someone says from the doorway, and they all turn to see Frank standing there with an impressed look on his face. “You guys don’t mess around.”

Gerard immediately flushes and looks away. He saw Frank _yesterday_ , and yet it feels like it’s been far too long. When he hazards another quick glance, Frank is staring at him.

Geoff jumps into action. “Frank! Nice to see you. You know the guys,” he says, gesturing to the four of them, and then introduces Frank to John.

“Sorry I just busted in here,” Frank says, and then smiles. “Your mom let me in. Nice lady.”

John turns a little pink. “Oh. Well, it’s good to have you here.”

Gerard watches the whole exchange out of the corner of his eye. His heartrate hasn’t slowed one bit and he concentrates on keeping his breathing under control.

“So,” Frank claps his hands together in front of him, “what’s next?”

“Well, we need a melody part,” Ray offers.

Frank nods. “Cool.” He picks up his guitar case where it’s leaning against the wall next to him. “If you give me that,” – he points to the tape recorder, which John realizes is still recording and quickly shuts it off – “I can write something.” John extracts the tape and hands it over to Frank. “Is there somewhere I can go without any distractions? I work best that way.”

“There’s my van out back,” Geoff says. “Might be kind of hot but there’s lots of space and you can use the tape player.”

“Perfect,” Frank says, and he follows Geoff back up the stairs without another word.

Gerard exhales silently. He looks around the room, and it seems everyone is at a loss for what to do. Matt is still standing awkwardly against the wall, staring at the ceiling, Ray and Mikey are both plucking quietly at their guitars, and John is fiddling with things on the soundboard that obviously do not need to be messed with when no one is in the recording studio.

After a few minutes, Geoff comes back. “I hope he doesn’t burn to death in that van. It’s hot as hell in there and the AC’s busted.”

“Don’t worry about Frankie,” Ray says. “He’s tough.”

Gerard nods in agreement, thinking how hard it must have been for Frank to come here, join a new band on their first day of recording, a band whose lead singer is his _ex_ , on top of it all. Then again, Frank hadn’t seemed all that upset, just eager, like he’d already accepted that this is how things are now. Gerard had hoped a little stupidly that he and Frank would never _be_ exes, but maybe Frank saw it coming all along.

They sit around talking for a while before John’s mother calls down the stairs, asking if anyone wants sandwiches, and the guys are all too happy to accept. Gerard nibbles at his, too nervous about working in the studio to eat much. While they’re sitting at John’s kitchen table, eating their food and shooting the shit, Frank emerges from the back door, soaked in sweat and carrying his guitar case in one hand and a piece of paper covered in his messy scrawl in the other. Everyone sort of stares at Frank dumbly for a moment before he says, “I finished it,” and waves the piece of paper around.

“Awesome!” Geoff says. “Can’t wait to hear it.”

They file back down to the basement, taking seats around the room one after the other. Frank sits in a chair on the other side of the room and doesn’t meet Gerard’s eye. He carefully extracts the cassette tape from his back pocket and loads it into the tape player before pressing play. He scrambles to get his guitar out and ready, and then starts playing along with Ray on the tape.

He cycles through a few chords that ring out soft and melancholy throughout the room. Gerard finds himself shifting to the edge of his seat, eyes focused intently on Frank’s fingers as they move along the frets. _It’s beautiful_ , he thinks, and when he dares a glance at Frank’s concentrated expression, he wonders how he could have expected anything less.

Gerard hears his voice come through the tape player, and for once he doesn’t cringe. Frank harnessed the exact vibe Gerard was going for with the song, distracting him from what his voice sounds like and bringing him into the story instead. The song changes a few times, and Frank goes with it, occasionally glancing at what he has written on the sheet of paper set in front of him. At the end, he drops off with Ray, and lets Gerard’s last line ring out.

They’re all silent for a moment, and then Gerard says, “Frankie that was…” It’s the first time they’ve spoken since last night, and he doesn’t even know how to finish the sentence, but Frank just nods like he understands and looks at Gerard with such seriousness that Gerard almost can’t stand it. He wonders for a moment if this is what Frank is like when he’s working on music, but then remembers he’s seen Frank working with Pencey and knows that he doesn’t take himself (or anything, really) quite this seriously.

“Do you guys think you’re ready to record it?” John asks. “You know, like, for real?”

Ray nods avidly. “Yeah, totally.”

“Cool,” Geoff says. “Let’s get you set up, then.”

Everyone else records their parts before Gerard, most only having to do it in four or five takes. Matt spends a while working out exactly how he wants the drum part, but eventually it all comes together and all that’s left is the vocals. Gerard has been pacing the control room, half excited beyond words and half about-to-pass-out nervous. Eventually, there’s nothing more he can do to procrastinate, and John ushers him into the recording booth with a comforting hand on his shoulder. Gerard usually doesn’t take so well to strangers, Frank being the only exception so far, but he finds himself trusting John and his experience.

“You can do as many takes as you want, we’ve got time,” he tells Gerard, and Gerard is thankful for it especially because he’s pretty sure they do _not_ have time or money to buy more. “This is your newest song, so it’ll be the toughest, but then it’ll be a breeze from here on out.”

Gerard takes a few deep breaths and then nods at John, who smiles kindly and leaves the booth. Gerard steps up to the mic and pulls the large cushy headphones over his ears. John presses the intercom button on the other side of the glass and asks, “You ready for some playback?”

Gerard casts his eyes around what he can see of the control room. Ray and Mikey are standing behind John, looking encouraging and excited. Matt is giving him a small smile, having reclaimed his spot against the wall. Gerard looks for Frank, and sees him come back into the room just then. Frank freezes, realizing what’s about to happen, and then takes a few steps towards the glass so he can watch and listen. Gerard catches Frank’s eye and they share a look that Gerard doesn’t know how to interpret. He flicks his eyes back to John and nods.

The instrumental track pours through his headphones and he closes his eyes for a moment, sinking into the feeling of it and trying to harness the energy he had felt when he first heard Frank play his part. Suddenly, he finds himself singing, “Late dawns and early sunsets…” and he’s not sure where it’s coming from. His mouth seems to be working without his consent, just going with the song and acting on instinct. He goes with it. As the music gets more intense, Gerard lets his voice follow it, digging deep into the gut-wrenching lines and pulling back softly to keep it heartbroken and innocent. Near the end of the song, his voice turns even more ragged than it had on the tape recording. He alternates between half-singing and screaming the words as the song crescendos, and then falls off into deep misery as the character of the song realizes what he’s done. Before he knows it, he’s at the last verse, and then the instruments are dropping out and it’s just him. He finds that he’s closed his eyes during most of the recording, and he opens them as he prepares to sing the last line. Frank’s eyes find his. He opens his mouth, feeling the story of the song move through him, and sings, “There’s a corpse in this bed.”

If Gerard had his way, the room would be silent for long moment as the song dies out. As it is, though, John starts moving almost instantly, leaning forward and pressing the intercom button.

“Fucking awesome, Gerard. Great job,” John says. “Come out here and listen and then we’ll do another take.”

Gerard nods and removes his headphones. He exits the booth almost in a trance, like someone else is moving his limbs while he watches from across the room. He stands next to Mikey and does not look at anyone as John plays the recording back.

He surprises himself with just how much he likes it. There’s something about this song, he’s decided, that’s too different from the other’s they’ve written to be criticized the way those can. The story comes pouring out through the lyrics and instrumental so clearly that there’s no way Gerard or any of the other guys could not do it justice. Unfortunately, doing a song in one take is not what Geoff and John had in mind.

“It’s great,” Geoff says with a huge smile. “Let’s get you back in there and do it again. Two more times, tops.”

Gerard’s not sure what to do but agree, even though something about it makes him feel deeply uncomfortable. He reenters the booth and puts the headphones back on, and then signals to John that he’s ready from playback. Just then, something Frank told him rolls through his mind, something about how everything will feel wrong at first, that it’ll be awkward and uncomfortable, but then things will change. He meets Frank’s eyes again as the song begins. _‘It’ll feel so good and perfect that you won’t even remember when it didn’t.’_

He closes his eyes and sings.


	21. Chapter 21

He avoids being alone with Frank for the first three days of recording. Somehow. There are so few people at the house that Gerard finds it implausible that he’s managed to stay out of Frank’s way, often not seeing him for more than a few minutes at a time even when others are around. Then again, Frank is probably avoiding him too.

Frank ends up rooming with Geoff at the hotel, thankfully. Gerard had been worried that the pull-out couch in his and Mikey’s room would have to be sacrificed to Frank if he couldn’t find anyone else to room with. Not that Mikey is around all that much, hanging out with Ray and the other guys while Gerard stays in their room alone. Frank probably could have just taken the other bed.

In any case, Gerard and Frank have barely seen each other outside the studio, alternating smoke breaks and always trading off who goes with the group on coffee or food runs. They have a system somehow, without it needing to be communicated, and it works. Or, at least, Gerard thought it was until now.

Gerard steps out the back door onto the porch to smoke after a particularly grueling session of trying to dial in the vocals on Headfirst for Halos. He’s got a lot riding on this song, which he thinks might be the most important one on the album, and he’s been a little distracted from keeping tabs on where Frank is at all times, making sure he’s got someone with him if they’re in the same place at the same time. He realizes this lapse when he finds Frank smoking against the wall just outside the back door.

“Oh,” Gerard says around the cigarette in his mouth. His lighter is already poised to ignite, his hand forming a cup around the cigarette in anticipation. “Um.”

Frank looks at him with no readable expression. Definitely none of the panic Gerard is feeling at the moment. He just nods and then goes back to smoking languidly, not looking at Gerard. Gerard coughs, nearly dropping his cigarette, and then moves to stand between Frank and the door as he lights up. He edges as far away as he can while still appearing casual, but even so, there’s only about two feet between them.

His hands won’t stop fidgeting, tapping against his leg and taking the cigarette out of his mouth too quickly. He tries not to focus on what Frank is doing, but he can’t help it. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Frank exhale smoke up towards the sky, looking relaxed as ever, and he feels a twinge of jealousy. _What gives him the right to be so secure_ , he thinks angerly. _What gives him the right to already be over this_.

He feuds internally for a few more minutes, watching his own cigarette burn out much faster than Frank’s. He stubs out it out against the wall and is about to escape back inside when suddenly he finds himself saying, “It’s about you, you know.”

Frank looks at him, surprised and confused. His mouth opens a bit like he wants to say something but can’t find the words.

“Monroeville. It’s about you.” He has no idea why he says it, but now it’s out there in the open, and he feels triumphant to have knocked Frank a little off balance, or at least it appears he has.

Frank opens and closes his mouth a few times as the crease between his eyebrows deepens. His eyes flicker between Gerard and the ground quickly, processing what Gerard has said. Finally, he looks at Gerard and holds his gaze as he says, perplexed, “I never told you that I love you.”

Of all the things Frank could have said, Gerard expected that the least. For one horrifying moment he stands there completely silent, not able to come up with any way to respond. Frank just stares back at him expectantly. He doesn’t seem to be accusing Gerard or angry at him, but if Gerard doesn’t say something in the next few seconds, he might be.

Gerard clears his throat. “You didn’t have to,” he says. He quickly turns around and walks back inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

~

The next time Gerard finds himself alone with Frank, things go much worse.

He’s at the hotel on the night before their last day of recording. It’s been an exhausting week and he’d left the studio last after going through all the recorded material with John to plan out how they’ll use their last day.

In the hotel lobby, he moves like a zombie towards the elevators, barely conscious enough to press the correct level. The doors slide closed just as his eyes do the same. He’s nearly asleep on his feet when the elevator dings and he forces his eyes back open so he can walk the long miles down the hallway to his and Mikey’s room. He hopes that Mikey is already asleep and not planning on coming back later, wasted and loud after a night of hanging out with the others.

He stumbles down the poorly-decorated hotel corridor before finding the right room. Standing in front of it, he pats his pockets for his key card and then freaks out a little when he can’t find it. Finally, he feels the card in his front left pocket and extracts it. He smiles, slow and sleepy and content, as he unlocks the door on the first try and pushes into the room.

The first thing he notices is that it’s pitch dark. The second is that it’s warm, way too fucking warm. And the third is that someone is moaning, loudly. He flips on the light and realizes that it’s not just someone, it’s Frank, in Gerard’s bed getting his dick sucked by some guy Gerard can only see the naked backside of.

The two of them instantly jump apart when they realize the light is on and they’re no longer alone. Frank scrambles to get under the blankets while the other guy, his tattooed back still turned to Gerard, crawls on the floor for his clothes.

“What the fuck!” Gerard yells before he can stop himself. He stomps over to the bed – _my fucking bed_ – and stands next to Frank, uncaring that Frank is naked and looking like he’s about to have a heart attack.

“Gee,” Frank starts, his voice breaking. “Gee, fuck, I’m sorry. All the guys are in Geoff’s room so Mikey said we could come here. I didn’t think you’d be back until later. We’ll get out, just give us a minute.”

Gerard forces himself to inhale and exhale slowly a few times. “Fine,” he says. He turns around to find the other guy nearly fully dressed, looking even more freaked out than Frank. The guy looks at Gerard sheepishly, and that’s when it clicks.

Gerard whirls back around to Frank, who had started edging out of bed towards his clothes but stops when Gerard’s eyes land on him. “Kevin?!” Gerard yells angerly. “We’ve been broken up less than a week and you’re already fucking _Kevin_?!”

“Gerard, I–” Frank starts, his eyes pleading.

“Get the fuck out.” He’s surprised at the seriousness of his own voice. He’s surprised at his own anger and how his hands clench into fists at his sides. He’s surprised at how much he doesn’t want to see Frank’s face, how much he doesn’t want to ever see it again. “Just get out, Frank.”

Frank nods and moves to get dressed as Gerard turns around and braces a hand against the wall to keep himself steady. He takes more even breaths in and out and does _not_ look at the other two men in the room, even when they’re on their way out the door and Frank repeats, “I’m sorry,” so quietly that Gerard almost doesn’t hear it, before closing the door behind them. Frank is not one to be meek, Gerard knows that better than anybody, and the way Frank sounded leaves Gerard open and raw and regretful that it was _him_ that put that defeated tone in Frank’s voice.

He sighs and looks at the bed Frank had been in, disgusted. He turns away, tugs off his shirt and jeans and then flips off the overhead light. In the dark he moves back to the bed and crawls under the covers, feeling his disgust get redirected towards himself as presses his face into the pillow, inhaling deeply, and pretends that Frank is there with him, happy and unafraid.

~

“What the fuck!” Gerard accosts Mikey when he comes back to their room the following morning.

Mikey stands in the doorway, looking confused. “Uh,” is all he says. He looks like he’s barely slept, hair ruffled and eyes droopy, though growing more and more alert as he takes in Gerard.

Gerard has to stop himself from punching something, the anger from last night bubbling to the surface. “Why would you let Frank fuck someone in our room?!”

Mikey’s mouth falls open and he raises an eyebrow. “Wait,” he says. He steps into the room and closes the door behind him before turning back to Gerard and asking in a heated whisper, “He wasn’t fucking you?”

“ _No_! We broke up! Last week!” Gerard kind of wants to tear his hair out at this point, and he’s worried if his eyes bulge out any further they’ll fall right out of his head.

Mikey opens and closes his mouth a few times, and the mutters something that sounds like, “How did I miss _that_ ,” before setting his jaw. “Gee, I had no fucking clue. You’ve gotta believe me.”

“How the _fuck_ did you not know?!” He never mentioned it outright, he’ll give Mikey that, but Mikey knows everything about Gerard, even the things he never wanted to share.

“I don’t fucking know, Gee. I thought– I dunno. I thought you two were just being professional, or whatever. I didn’t know you broke up.” Mikey pauses, and then his eyebrows furrow. “Wait, why did you break up? And why didn’t you fucking tell me?”

Gerard deflates. He sits on the edge of the bed and puts his head in his hands. Mikey comes and sits beside him, placing a comforting hand on his back. “We can’t be in the band _and_ be together,” Gerard says miserably. “We couldn’t keep that shit separate. So, I offered him a place in My Chem, but I told him we’d have to break up. And he agreed.”

Mikey rubs Gerard’s back in slow circles. “You can’t blame him for that, Gee,” he says softly.

“No, I know. I just didn’t think about what it meant.” He inhales deeply. “I didn’t think about Frank _fucking_ anyone else.” He surprises himself with the venom in his voice.

“I’m sorry.” Mikey sounds like he means it, and if Gerard looked at his face he would probably see it there too, but instead he closes his eyes against the warmth of his hands and feels the tears roll down between his fingers.

“It feels like cheating. But it’s not, he’s free to do what he wants. I just– It fucking _hurts_.” Gerard’s voice breaks embarrassingly on the last word.

Mikey slides his arm around Gerard’s shoulders and pulls him in. “I know, I know,” he says as he rocks Gerard softly back and forth.

Gerard pulls his face out of his hands and presses it to Mikey’s chest. “He told me he loves me,” he says into the fabric of Mikey’s shirt.

Mikey freezes. “When?”

“A few days ago. I told him that I wrote Monroeville about him, and he said he never told me that he loves me.”

“Did he mean…” Mikey trails off.

Gerard shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t past tense. It was a fucking _confession_ , Mikey. He _meant_ it. Why the fuck would he do this if he didn’t _mean_ it?” Gerard feels the anger return, and more tears spill out over his cheeks.

Mikey holds him tighter and then rocks him silently for a few minutes. “Maybe,” he says finally. “Maybe he did it because he does mean it.”

Gerard’s not sure what to say to that, but the way it sits in his stomach makes him think Mikey’s right.

“Maybe he’s trying to forget,” Mikey says.

Gerard leans into Mikey’s side and pretends that they’re in high school again, and Mikey is consoling him after someone shoved him around or spit in his lunch or some other stupid thing that used to happen to him every fucking day. He pretends that he hasn’t missed out on the last six years of Mikey’s friendship, that this isn’t the first time he’s sobbed on Mikey’s shoulder since he was eighteen and about to leave for college. He pretends that he never met Frank. He pretends that he can forget, too.

~

Frank doesn’t have to be there on the last day of recording, thank God. Gerard heard he left early that morning. Hopefully Kevin went home with him.

Regardless, their last few hours in the studio are grueling. Gerard had decided he wanted to change some lyrics, and he knows he should have leave the songs be to make it easier on all of them, but he just couldn’t let it go when he knew he had ways that he could make them better. He rerecords three songs with new lyrics, and then he, Geoff, and John spend hours retracking, getting on each other’s nerves much more than Gerard would have liked. He and John had decided on an order for the album the night before, but Geoff had other ideas, and his voice eventually wins out over the other two. He’s the label exec, so Gerard guesses he probably knows what he’s talking about, but that doesn’t make him any less annoyed.

Finally, he and Mikey are able to check out of their hotel room and head home. Again, they drive in silence. Gerard has nothing to say, anyway, even though he has a lot on his mind.

Fifteen days. That’s how long they have before they leave on tour. Gerard would be lying if he said he wasn’t considering jumping off a bridge on day fourteen, but he’s not considering it very seriously, at least. He can do this. Or, well, he’s pretty sure he can.

It’s Frank that’s the problem. The hotel debacle had been bad enough, but if he were to catch Frank with a hook-up in their tour van – he shudders just thinking about it – he’s not sure what he would do. Leave the tour, probably. Maybe even leave the band, if Frank didn’t leave it first. (That’s if they even _get_ a van to tour with. Geoff had pretty much told them the label is out of money after recording the album. The tour is still set to go as planned, but with no way to get around, they might have to call it off anyway. Gerard is secretly hoping they will).

He had thought that maybe the short break would give him and Frank some time apart, let them cool off and get over themselves, but Geoff mentioned they should be practicing to prepare for the tour, especially now that Frank will be playing with them on songs he wasn’t even on the album for. They have six practices scheduled between now and the day they leave. Six. _I’m going to blow my fucking brains out_ , Gerard thinks when he remembers just how many hours in Frank’s presence that will mean, and then he thinks about Headfirst for Halos and smiles to himself at his own fucked up joke.

When they get home, Gerard decides to spend the rest of one of his only remaining free days getting royally fucked up in his basement. He nabs a bottle of vodka from the freezer and a few beers, and then sets himself up on his bed with some comic books to pass the time alone. He used to have a TV in here, before the band, but Mikey had offered to keep it in his room when they put the eqipment in here to practice, and now it apparently belongs to Mikey permanently. Gerard looks at the place where his TV had stood mournfully. He misses the background noise of a stupid sitcom or infomercial to paint to at night, and he misses being able to watch movies whenever he wants without leaving his room.

With Frank here, he didn’t need the TV to keep him company. He never even thought about it once. The only bored moments he had were when Frank was on tour, and he’d made it through that by talking to him on the phone at every possible second. He thinks, retrospectively, that he may have had a bit of an unhealthy attachment to Frank. But that doesn’t stop it from hurting now when he has to feel Frank’s absence.

 _Whatever_ , he thinks, bringing the bottle of vodka to his lips, it’s not as if he didn’t live his entire life alone before Frank came along. He knows he can survive that, and he intends to, for the band if nothing else. And he won’t _really_ be alone, he’ll have his family and his bandmates.

Except they’ve all got their own shit to deal with, and he can’t really talk to any of them about him and Frank. Not even with Mikey, if he wants to avoid extremely awkward conversations. Plus, even if his bandmates knew, there’s no guarantee they’d sympathize with Gerard. Maybe they’d take Frank’s side, he _is_ free to do what he wants after all. Gerard can’t really blame him for wanting to move on.

The thing is, he really, _really_ doesn’t want to move on. He wants so badly to go back to the way things were before, that he never had to choose between their relationship and the band. That he hadn’t made Frank make that choice either.

Just then, there’s a soft knock at his door. “Yeah?” he calls.

Mikey opens the door and sticks his head in hesitantly. “Um. Ray’s coming over. We’re gonna play video games. Wanna join?”

Gerard’s mouth falls open. He can’t help it. Mikey never warns him before entering his room, let alone asks him to hang out, not anymore. He knows he’s always invited if he wants, but still, it’s nice to be _asked_. Then again, there’s a reason people don’t ask him to hang out, and that’s because his answer is almost always no.

But for some reason, he finds himself saying, “Sure,” and pulling himself out of bed. He leaves the bottle of vodka on his dresser and heads upstairs with Mikey.

They have to keep the volume low with everyone else in the house asleep, but they still manage to have a good time. Ray jokes endlessly about how useless Gerard is at Resident Evil, and Gerard pretends to be annoyed about it. Mikey teases Gerard too, but they both get their asses kicked by Ray. When their fingers get too tired to play, they put on Dawn of the Dead and watch with ample commentary until Mikey and Ray both fall asleep on the couch. Gerard doesn’t even notice he’s the only one awake until his fifth remark about the greatness of the slow zombie trope is interrupted by a snore. He looks over and sees Mikey drooling on Ray’s shoulder, both of them slumped into one another and sleeping soundly. Gerard smiles.

He watches the rest of the movie alone and in silence, besides the snoring, and it’s actually kind of nice. He can pretend that they’re holed up in here to protect themselves from the zombies that are wandering around outside, and that means he’s got much bigger things to worry about than Frank Iero.

The movie ends and as the credits roll, Gerard realizes he doesn’t have the energy to get up. His eyelids slowly droop down and then slip closed. He falls asleep easily, and his dreams may or may not be filled with zombie ex boyfriends and thoughtful little brothers.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of dialog in here that you might recognize from a very famous frerard fic. I'm not trying to compare this story to that masterpiece AT ALL. I just saw an opportunity and I took it.

The practices are hard, and Gerard dreads each and every one of them. Frank being there isn’t even the main issue, it’s the pressure of knowing they’re preparing for something way bigger than they’ve ever done before; they’re going on _tour_. Gerard still can’t believe it.

But after each practice, Gerard feels a lot better than when he went in. With Frank, the band has become more focused, more dedicated. Practice doesn’t end until they finish everything they set out to do, and if that means practice lasts seven hours, then practice lasts seven hours.

That’s only happened once, but as they head in for their last practice before they leave on tour tomorrow, Gerard’s thinking this might be a repeat occurrence.

They have to sit down and talk before they can even get to practicing because they _still_ don’t have a van to tour with. Ray has a cousin who has friend who has a neighbor who _might_ sell them his beat up old van for cheap, but it’s no guarantee, and at this point it’s too late to cancel the tour without serious consequences.

“Well,” Matt says, “if worse comes to worse, my dad said he’d let us use his truck to haul shit. We’d all have to cram into a few of our own cars, but we could do it.”

Gerard starts to freak out a little thinking about shoving two or three of them into his hatchback, how little space they’d have, especially when they stop to sleep. Not that they’d have much more in a van, but still.

“So, we’re not pulling out of the tour?” Frank clarifies.

Mikey shrugs. “Can’t. Not now.”

“Yeah,” Ray agrees, looking a little frustrated. “I called Geoff earlier. He said it’s too late, we gotta figure it out.”

They all look at each other glumly for a moment, and then Frank says, “Uh, if there’s nothing else on that, I have some news,” and the attention turns to him. He clears his throat. “I’m dropping out of school. I finished my last final yesterday, and I’m not going back next semester.”

Gerard’s jaw drops, and he’s not the only one.

“Frankie,” Ray says, concerned, “are you–”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Look,” Frank gives them all a serious look, “this is where my heart is, okay? With this band. We’re going places, and I’m not gonna be stuck in a classroom when that happens.”

That seems to shut everybody up pretty well, and Frank gets a few claps on the back before they start practicing. Gerard can’t help but worry, though, about Frank’s parents and what will happen when they find out he’s left school. On top of that, Gerard can’t stop thinking about just how worried he is about tomorrow. Not only about their transportation woes, but also that, no matter what, he’s going to be spending every day in very close quarters with Frank for the next two weeks. He’s got so much on his mind that he fumbles a couple lines and completely fucks up the notes more than once, but when his bandmates look at him worriedly he just chalks it up to nerves about the tour, which, he thinks, isn’t really a lie, even if the actual performances aren’t what he’s most nervous about.

It makes him smile a little, that he’s more nervous about being near Frank than _performing on stages across the country_. Or, at least, across New England. He’s able to finish the practice with fewer mistakes, and they all leave feeling confident after only three hours in the practice space.

“See you all here tomorrow! Nine am!” Ray reminds them as he walks towards his car, as if any of them could forget.

Mikey and Gerard walk side by side towards the Subaru. Gerard pointedly does not watch Frank as he walks to his own car and drives away.

“So,” Mikey says as they slide into their seats, “guess we’ll be taking this old girl on tour with us.”

“Yeah. Guess so,” Gerard says and pulls away from the curb. He tries not to worry about the concerning sounds his car is making as they drive home. His car has _always_ made weird noises, but suddenly every little issue seems to be important if they’re going to be carting this hunk of junk from state to state.

But then he turns onto their block, and he almost can’t believe what he sees. “What the fuck is that?” he asks, even though he knows full well what it is. It’s a van, a _new_ van. It’s even got a trailer attached to it, and it’s parked in their driveway. He shares a look with Mikey, who looks equally confused, and parks on the street.

When they get inside, they’re greeted by their parents and grandmother sitting on the couch in the living room.

“Boys!” Donna says excitedly. “Did you see?”

“Yeah, we did. Ma, what’s going on?” Gerard asks.

Don smiles wide. “Grandma bought you the van, and the trailer, to take on tour with you.”

Gerard turns to look at Elena, who gets up from the couch with a huge grin on her face. “Do you like it?” she asks in a small voice.

“Gramma…” Gerard trails off, taking a step forward.

“It’s fucking amazing.” Mikey swiftly steps in front of him and brings Elena into a tight hug.

Gerard doesn’t even feel annoyed that Mikey stole his thunder, he just smiles and joins in nearly crushing their grandmother until she tells them to back off or she’ll have to go on life support.

“I gotta text the guys,” Mikey says, letting go of Elena to take out his phone.

Gerard holds Elena out at arm’s length. “I don’t know how to thank you for this, Helena.”

“You don’t have to, honey. Just treat it well.” Elena says and smiles warmly.

Gerard still hasn’t stopped grinning. “Okay. Okay, yeah, we will.”

“They guys are all psyched. This is such a fucking life saver,” Mikey says, grinning.

“For real,” Gerard says, thinking again about his little hatchback sitting against the curb outside.

Elena encourages them to all go check out the van, which Gerard and Mikey respond to by excitedly rushing out the door, everyone else following them out onto the porch. Gerard tries the driver’s side door and finds it’s locked.

“Gerard,” Don says. Gerard looks up to see him holding a set of keys. Don tosses them and by some miracle, Gerard catches them easily.

Gerard smiles and then slides the key into the lock. He sits in the driver’s seat and plays like a kid with all the buttons and levers. But Mikey is right there next to him in the passenger seat, excitedly flipping down the visor and looking in the mirrors.

It feels like he blinks and he’s sitting in the driver’s seat again, about to drive away from their practice space and embark on tour. He’d offered to take the first turn at driving, as he was over-caffeinated while the rest of the guys looked like they could stand to sleep for a few more hours. Or days. _Great start, guys_ , Gerard thinks pessimistically. Whatever, he’s allowed to be grumpy.

Mikey snoozes next to him in the passenger seat and the rest of the guys are sprawled out in the rows of seats behind him. Gerard pulls away from the curb, watching the practice space get smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror. Once or twice, his eyes flick to Frank sleeping with his head in Ray’s lap in the seat behind him, but he doesn’t let them linger. Instead, he turns his attention to the road and heads East.

~

It only takes them about an hour to get to the venue, so when they step out of the van they’re less eager to stretch their legs and more to look around at where they’ll be playing tonight.

“Damn,” Mikey says beside Gerard.

“I know.”

They grew up coming to shows here, at the Knitting Factory. It’s pretty fucking surreal that they get to play here, and it’s definitely the biggest venue they’ve played so far.

“Hey, guys!”

Gerard turns to see a tall, tanned, dark-haired guy sauntering towards him. He feels a little guilty when he immediately decides that the stranger is devastatingly handsome, but then remembers, a little sadly, that he doesn’t have any reason to feel guilty anymore.

“I’m Gabe,” the stranger says, “front man for Midtown. Awesome to meet you all.” He smiles wide and shakes each of their hands, except for Frank, who he hugs instead. “Good to see you, man,” Gabe says, and Gerard wonders how they know each other. Gerard notices that Gabe listens intently to all of their names and seems dead set on committing them to memory. When he gets to Gerard, he takes Gerard’s hand and then covers the back of it with his free hand. “You must be the genius, huh?” He smiles, slow and easy. Gerard can’t help but smile back, and maybe blush a little. “I’ve heard about you. We gotta talk sometime.”

“Sure,” Gerard says, managing not to stutter. It’s a little ridiculous how flustered he is after talking with this Gabe guy for only a few moments, but unless he lays it on thick with everybody, Gerard thinks Gabe just might be interested. Then again, Gabe seems the type who _does_ lay it on thick no matter who he’s talking to.

Gabe releases Gerard’s hand and then claps his own together in front of his chest. “So, let’s get you guys inside. I’ll help you with your stuff.”

They bring their gear inside and start setting up. Or, the rest of My Chem starts setting up while Gerard mostly tries to stay out of the way. A venue worker hands him a schedule without prelude, and he takes it, a little confusedly. Scanning the schedule, he sees they have about an hour until soundcheck, then Midtown’s soundcheck right after. Doors open a few hours after that and then they go on at seven, which means he has far too many hours of stress before he can relax and watch Midtown play.

“Hey, can I see that?” Gabe says, suddenly at Gerard’s side.

“Sure.” Gerard hands the schedule over and tries not to stare at Gabe’s jawline.

Gabe makes a few considering noises and then hands the schedule back with a grin. “Thanks.”

Gerard smiles back, and then feels awkward holding the piece of paper when he doesn’t need it anymore. Gabe laughs at his discomfort, but in a way that makes Gerard feel like laughing at his own silliness rather than being offended.

“Here,” Gabe says. He takes the schedule back and then grabs a roll of duct tape sitting on a speaker, ripping a piece off with his teeth, and tapes the schedule to the wall backstage. When he’s done, he comes back over to Gerard. “Come on, let’s get a beer.” Gerard feels a little bad leaving his band behind, but he wouldn’t be of much use anyway, and it’s not like he’s going to say _no_.

They each get a beer at the bar and then find a spot to stand in one of the back corners. Once they’re settled, Gabe immediately jumps into a conversation about lyrics. “I’ve heard some of your guys’ stuff,” he says after talking a little about his own issues with writing. “I just gotta know how you _do_ it, man! Your lines are fucking genius!”

Gerard feels his cheeks heating up, and he tries to hide his face in his hair. “I dunno. It just comes out, I guess.”

“Oh, come on. There’s no way ‘There’s no room in this hell, there’s no room in the next’ just _comes out_. There’s gotta be a method to the madness.” Gabe knocks his elbow lightly against Gerard. “Dude, spill!”

Gerard, feeling exponentially more awkward now that Gabe has brought up Monroeville, tries to be as vague as possible and not mention what inspired that song in the first place. “I guess I just, like, channel whatever dark shit I’m feeling. And it’s like free therapy, ya know? It helps me work through stuff, just getting it down on paper and then making it into a song. It’s like I can finally make sense of it all.”

Gabe is looking at him like he’s professing the meaning of life or something, and Gerard has to look away from the intensity of it. “Yeah, I totally fucking get that, man. Shit. That’s deep.”

Gerard shrugs. “It’s just how it works for me. But it’s probably different for everyone.” He thinks that may have made him sound like an asshole, but it’s too late to take it back, so he sips his beer instead.

Gabe just laughs. “Well, I sure as fuck don’t write like that. I’m busy writing songs to get _away_ from all the shit that’s weighing me down.” He bumps Gerard again with his shoulder and Gerard meets his eye. “You’re a brave guy, Gerard.”

Gerard manages a nervous smile. “Thanks.”

“Hello!” Ray calls into the mic on stage. Gerard whips his head around to see them all set up and in position for soundcheck. “So, I guess I’m your lead singer for tonight. Can’t seem to find the usual guy.”

“Time to go, I guess,” Gerard says. Gabe smiles and tips his beer as a goodbye. “Thanks.” Gerard heads towards the stage then, keeping his eyes down.

They soundcheck with Vampires and it goes mostly well. Ray has some trouble with one of his pedals and Matt complains for the hundredth time that he needs a new snare, but it works out in the end. Frank seems to have decided to conserve his energy for the show, as he doesn't move much during soundcheck, just stays behind Gerard where he could only just see Frank out of the corner of his eye. Not that he was watching.

They finish soundcheck and Frank announces that he’s going to go practice for a while, and that someone should come get him backstage when they’re about to go on. Gerard watches him go, sees the way his shoulders slope down defeatedly with his back to the rest of them.

Someone taps Gerard on the shoulder and he turns around, only to have to crane his neck to look up at Gabe. “Hey,” Gabe says. “Our turn now.” He winks at Gerard and then steps past him. For a moment, the only movement Gerard is capable of is blinking, and then he finally gets it together and walks off the stage.

He goes back to the bar to get himself another beer. Leaning against one of the back walls, he watches Midtown’s soundcheck with deep interest. The song they play is a little poppy, but it’s still got a good Jersey punk vibe to it which he appreciates. Gerard tries to take notice of the other three guys in the band but finds himself continuously drawn back to Gabe. Like Frank, he’s not moving as much as Gerard guesses he will when they play for real, but he’s still got a captivating stage presence. Every once in a while, Gabe smiles like he’s sharing an inside joke, and Gerard finds himself smiling back like he’s in on it.

“He seems pretty cool,” Mikey says.

Gerard hadn’t noticed Mikey’s approach, but he doesn’t even startle. “Yeah.” They watch the rest of Midtown’s soundcheck in silence, but Gerard can tell that Mikey wants to talk. When Midtown leaves the stage, Mikey doesn’t waste any time.

“Gee,” he says.

Gerard sighs. “I know. It’s nothing, okay? He’s just… charming.”

Mikey gives him a ‘duh’ look. “He’s charming _you_. And, like, that’s fine, if you want it, but… Do you want it?”

Gerard thinks for a moment. “I–”

“No, I don’t wanna know,” Mikey cuts him off. Gerard tries again, but Mikey continues, “I _seriously_ don’t need to know, Gee. Just– figure it out and don’t do anything you’ll regret, okay?”

“Okay,” Gerard says.

Mikey nods and fades into the background just as Gabe approaches Gerard again. If it were anyone else, Gerard knows he would be uncomfortable spending so much time with a virtual stranger, but Gabe gives off this energy that’s sort of like sunshine on your face, and he only wants more of it.

“Hey, wanna go hang out somewhere?” Gabe offers. “We got, like, three hours before anything interesting happens.”

Gerard smiles. “Sure.”

Gabe gets himself another beer and then sets off in search of a couch. They finally find one in a back room somewhere that looks like it hasn’t seen company in ages. The air smells stale and Gerard’s a little worried a plume of dust will kick up when they sit on the ancient couch, because coughing fits are never sexy, but Gabe just plops right down and pats the seat next to him for Gerard to take, no dust in sight.

Gerard sits down a little more carefully, and then settles in comfortably next to Gabe, their thighs touching a little. “Hey, d’you think I could smoke in here?”

Gabe laughs. “Who’s gonna stop you?”

Gerard digs his smokes and lighter out before realizing he should maybe ask, “Do you mind?” and then, after Gabe shakes his head, “Want one?”

“Nah,” Gabe says. “Not really my thing.”

Gerard lights up and takes a drag, feeling his muscles relax a little. He takes another sip of his beer and starts to feel like he could maybe have a conversation with Gabe without stumbling all over his words. “So, tell me about your band.”

Gabe seems happy to comply. He tells Gerard they’ve just released their second album, and they’re on tour to promote it. “That’s where the name of the tour comes from, The Best Revenge Tour? It’s from the–”

“The Herbert book, yeah, ‘Living well is the best revenge,’” Gerard says, nodding. “Awesome, dude.”

“Yeah. My Chemical _Romance_ , though,” Gabe says excitedly. He shifts a little closer and looks at Gerard with bright eyes. “Now _that’s_ a good name.”

Gerard laughs a little. “Our bassist, Mikey, he came up with it. Kid’s a fucking genius.”

“Oh! Yeah, Frankie told me a little about him,” Gabe says, and Gerard stops breathing for a second. “Said the dude learned bass in, like, three weeks? Damn.”

“Yeah, um.” Gerard shifts in his seat awkwardly. “How do you know Frank, anyway?”

“We go to school together, at Rutgers. I just graduated, actually, but–”

“He just dropped out,” Gerard cuts in without thinking.

Gabe raises his eyebrows. “Really? To do the band?”

“Yeah.”

Gabe sits back a little in his seat, considering, and the nods a few times. “He was real unhappy there, doing some shit in the Business department.” He looks at Gerard then. “I think he made the right choice.”

Gerard nods, but can’t think of anything to say. He sips his beer and stares at the floor.

“How’d you guys meet Frankie?”

Gerard nearly chokes on a mixture of beer and his own saliva. “Um,” he says, trying to think of anything to say besides ‘we hooked up.’ He finally settles on, “Mikey tried out for his old band, and we sorta became friends with them. When they broke up, we wanted him for My Chem.”

“Cool,” Gabe says. “So, about Mikey…”

Gerard looks at Gabe, confused. “What about him?”

“Are you two, you know, together?” Gabe asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Gerard can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. “I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he says through his giggles. Gabe, as least, seems to be a good sport about being laughed at, and chuckles along with Gerard a little awkwardly. “It’s just,” Gerard says when he gets a handle on himself, “he’s my _brother_.”

“ _Oh_!” Gabe laughs in earnest then, a full laugh that Gerard thinks he’d like to hear again. “Wow, I read that one wrong, huh?” Gabe slaps Gerard’s knee lightly, and leaves his hand resting there after.

Gerard swallows. “Yeah.”

“Usually doesn’t work out anyway,” Gabe says, staring at where his hand lays on Gerard’s knee. “relationships in a band.”

“Yeah,” Gerard says again, and then clears his throat when his voice comes out rough and forced. He shifts a little, trying to make Gabe’s hand fall off his knee, but at the same time trying to move a little closer, unable to decide what he wants. The room is suddenly far too small, and he feels the need to get out as quickly as possible. “Um, I’m just gonna…” He searches for an excuse, but his beer is half full, and his cigarette has whittled down to the filter without him noticing, but it’s not like he has to leave to light another. “I need to–”

The door swings open. Ray and Mikey stop short on the other side, their laughter dying and the smiles falling off their faces. “Oh,” Ray says. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Gerard takes the opportunity to get up and leave, throwing a “See you guys later,” over his shoulder. He downs the rest of his beer as he makes his way back out to the club floor. The doors must have opened while he was with Gabe, because the room is now beginning to fill with noise and concert goers. He wanders around for a while, not staying in any one place long enough to attract attention from anyone. He scores a few more beers and avoids members of both his own band and Midtown. It feels a little silly to him, but he doesn’t think he could handle human interaction right now, at least not without a getting a bit more drunk.

Just after he’s finished his fifth beer and has started feeling just fuzzy enough that he might be able to get up on the fairly large stage looming in front of him, he sees Matt and Ray head backstage and figures it’s time anyway. He trails slowly through the growing mass of people he is trying very hard not to think about and finally makes it backstage to see the rest of his band plus Gabe, who’s talking to Frank as he tunes his guitar.

It’s a little comical how much Gabe has to stoop to look Frank in the eye, but Gerard can’t bring himself to even smile. His gut is in knots thinking about what they could possibly be talking about, and his mind is only supplying the worst possibilities. Frank telling Gabe he’s bad in bed, that he’s a selfish asshole, that he traded their relationship for the band (though he knows Frank is as much to blame for that as he is). Or Gabe saying he’s just jerking Gerard around, wants to know all the ways to win Gerard’s heart before he lets him down with a cruel laugh.

“Hey,” Mikey says, drawing Gerard back to reality. “You okay?”

Gerard turns to Mikey and sees him flick his eyes to Frank and Gabe. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Gerard says, knowing he sounds not the least bit convincing. Mikey lets him get away with it, though, just nods and goes back to tuning up. Gerard flounders for something to do before they go on, and he can’t settle on anything that takes his mind off the show or Gabe and Frank long enough to make a dent in the time. He doodles for a while on a bar napkin, but everything he draws comes out weird and messy. Usually he lets himself get pulled into his work when he’s creating art, but there’s too much going on around him and in his head for him to escape right now. He sighs and slides his pen into his pocket, defeated.

Just then, a venue worker comes backstage. “Two minutes, guys,” she tells them and then leaves.

He thinks it’s a little odd that he’s relieved that the show is happening now and that he can’t put it off any longer, but he _is_ relieved. Lining up behind the rest of the guys, he mentally prepares himself to go on stage. He kind of wishes there was someone behind him to offer a calming hand on his shoulder, but he’s entering last, and at the moment no one is paying attention to him. That changes, of course, when they step onstage, and they receive a modest welcome. Gerard has no idea what Midtown’s fans will be like, but he hopes they’re open minded and not assholes.

Gerard walks to the mic and tries to focus his eyes on the crowd for a moment before giving up. His vision is swimming and he finds it difficult to read the setlist where it’s taped near his foot. Finally, he gets it, and nods before they all jump into Our Lady of Sorrows. They haven’t played this one live before, but he manages to hit everything right, he’s pretty sure. When they finish the song, the crowd seems eager for more.

“We’re My Chemical Romance,” Gerard says, and then fails at finding anything else to say.

Frank seems to understand his struggle, because he steps up to his own mic and says, “This is the first night of our first ever tour.” He pauses and smiles when the crowd cheers. “Thanks for sharing it with us.”

They move into Cubicles then, and Gerard feels a little more confident. He takes the mic off the stand and moves across the stage, screaming the lyrics. Just offstage, Gerard sees Gabe watching their set, and the way he’s staring makes Gerard think Frank probably didn’t say he’s bad in bed. Gerard smiles, makes it maybe a little flirty, and then turns back to the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Frank thrashing around with his guitar. He tries to ignore it, how sweaty Frank is and how hot he looks writhing around like he’s a man possessed. It’s hard, but he manages to focus on the people at his feet instead.

The rest of the show passes in a blur. When it’s over, Gerard can’t quite believe it. It feels like their first show all over again, the rush and the confusion. Except, Frank is here, leaving the stage with them, and that reminds him that everything is different. They’re not going to go back to Frank’s place now and they’re not going to decide to be together and Gerard’s not going to fall in love. It’s all in the past.

Gabe greets them as they come offstage. “That was fucking awesome, you guys! You put on one hell of a show.” His hand lands on Gerard’s shoulder, warm and solid. His thumb digs in a little bit to the soft flesh below Gerard’s collarbone, and Gerard wants to lean into the touch, but he stops himself. Just then, one of Gabe’s bandmates calls Gabe over, and he leaves them with a smile and another compliment about their set.

“Nice guy,” Matt remarks.

“Yeah,” Frank agrees. “He’s pretty cool.”

Gerard doesn’t react, pretending to ignore everything that just happened. He heads out to the floor while his bandmates put their instruments away and is thankful for the chance to get lost in the crowd before any of them – particularly Mikey or Frank – can catch up. He waits patiently for Midtown to come on, wishing he had a beer or a cigarette or something to occupy his hands. Eventually, the lights go down again, and the crowd cheers.

Midtown is even more wild than Gerard expected. Gabe especially gives his performance his all, jumping on the beat and inviting the crowd to sing and move with him. They sound good, energetic and strong. Gerard gets what Gabe means about his lyrics, they’re not deep, but they’re not bad either. They’re to the point, and they’re about Gabe’s and his bandmates’ experiences. Gerard can respect that.

He doesn’t join the pit, but it looks inviting from time to time. It’s different than the pits at Pencey’s shows or any of the others he’s been to, less aggressive and more clean fun. The culture of Midtown definitely seems to match their audience, which is made up of mostly college-aged kids. Gerard wonders if any go to Rutgers, if they know the band. Maybe they know Frank.

He shakes off the thought and leaves the crowd to get himself another beer. From the bar, he watches the end of the set and claps loudly when Midtown finishes. Gabe gives a final wave to the crowd, and then leaves the stage with his band as the lights come up. Gerard thanks the bartender and throws away his empty bottle on his way backstage, where he knows his bandmates will be packing up to load the van.

When he gets there, Gabe is talking to Ray. Gabe leaves before Gerard can get close enough to hear what they’re talking about, so as he moves to stand next to Ray where he’s sliding a guitar into its case, he asks, “What was that about?”

“Huh?” Ray asks, looking up at Gerard a little startled. “Oh, he just wanted to make sure we have somewhere to stay. I said we’ll be at my apartment.”

“Oh.” Gerard hadn’t actually thought about where they were going to sleep until that exact moment. But, since Ray’s apartment is in the City, he figures it makes sense that they’ll stay there.

He helps load the van, carefully avoiding Frank as he does so, and then slides into the last seat at the back next to Mikey as Ray gets ready to drive. It takes longer than expected for them to get to Ray’s apartment, which is all the way in Hunts Point. When they finally get there, it’s after 2 am and everyone is ready to crash out.

Gerard has never been to Ray’s apartment, but the rest of the guys seem familiar with the cramped one-bedroom. The living room is crowded with instruments and furniture that is far too big for the minimal floor space. There are small pathways carved to each room, and Gerard finds the whole place hard to navigate with the amount of alcohol he has in him.

“Shotgun!” Frank calls as soon as he crosses the threshold.

“What do you mean, shotgun?” Matt asks

“Come on, don’t you know this?” Frank teases. “In an apartment situation, the bed is the driver's seat and the couch is shotgun.” He plops down on the couch as he says it, stretching out on his back.

Gerard scrunches up his face in confusion. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah,” Ray says. “The driver is whoever owns the bed. Shotgun is who gets to sleep in the bed with them. The couch is, like, deputy shotgun.”

“You’re wrong,” Frank says. “But okay. Deputy shotgun!”

“Whatever,” Mikey says with an eyeroll. “I call real shotgun.”

“What the fuck are _we_ supposed to do? I ain’t sleeping on the fuckin’ floor,” Matt bitches.

Ray gestures to the couch. “It pulls out.” He and Mikey head for the bedroom before he can elaborate or explain how the supposed pull out couch works. Gerard starts to panic a bit about having to sleep in the same bed as Frank. Maybe he can convince Matt to sleep between them, but he knows that’s unlikely because it makes most sense for the smallest of them to go there, which is obviously Frank.

“Okay, Frankie,” Matt says. He prods Frank’s shoulder. “Get up, fucker.”

Frank smiles to himself. “Hmm. Actually, I think I like having the couch all to myself.”

“Don’t make me make you move,” Matt says warningly.

Frank sighs. “Okay, fine.” He rolls off the couch and helps Matt pull the bed out. Gerard watches, knowing he should probably help but not wanting to get in the way. After a few worrisome creaking noises, the bed folds out flat.  There are sheets and a thin blanket already on it, and Matt grabs a few couch pillows for them to use.

Matt turns off the overhead light, leaving just a dim lamp beside the bed to light the room. Gerard is still standing awkwardly a few feet away from the bed, waiting for Frank and Matt to make a decision about who’s sleeping where.

The choice is made when Matt climbs onto the bed on the left side, pushing himself against the armrest, and Frank crawls in beside him after taking his shirt off, of course, because things weren’t already uncomfortable enough for Gerard.

For a moment, he considers sleeping on the floor, but then he thinks about having to perform tomorrow and how much harder it’ll be if his back is messed up. Plus, the bed actually looks pretty comfy, and he doesn’t want to pass that up. So, he slips his shoes off and then lays down as far away from Frank as he can. Even so, their arms brush every once in a while, and he can feel the heat coming off Frank’s bare torso.

“Everybody ready?” Gerard asks a little shakily. He reaches out for the lap beside him and turns it off when he gets affirmative grunts from the other two.

With the room plunged into darkness, Gerard can’t ignore the sounds of breathing and, after a few minutes, Matt’s snores. He can hear his own breaths coming much faster than the others in the room, and he hopes Frank doesn’t notice. The thing is, he can tell that Frank isn’t asleep. Beside him, Frank’s body is too tense, and his breathing, while not nearly as quick and anxious as Gerard’s, is too fast in comparison to the slow, gentle rhythm Gerard knows when Frank sleeps.

Gerard stares at the ceiling with his eyes open wide and tries to think of anything but Frank beside him. He can’t, though, especially not when he feels Frank’s hand inching closer to his wrist, making the hairs on Gerard’s arm prickle in anticipation. His breath speeds up even faster and he holds his body stock still. He’s not sure if Frank's doing it on purpose, but he figures he must be if Frank is still awake and conscious of Gerard beside him in the bed.

Suddenly, Frank inhales sharply and snatches his hand back. Everything is quiet for a moment as Gerard goes even more rigid, holding his breath and listening for any clue as to what Frank is doing. Then, the sheets rustle as Frank turns over, putting his back to Gerard.

Gerard exhales and lets his eyes fall closed. A while later, Frank’s breaths even out, and Gerard is finally able to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you had told me when I started writing this fic that Gabe Saporta would be in it, I would never have believed you, but here we are.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be out of town tomorrow so here's the new chapter a little early! Sorry it's pretty sad :(

The following morning is more hellish than anticipated. Upon opening his eyes, Gerard notices two things: firstly, that Frank is wrapped around him like a boa constrictor, and secondly, that he is painfully, achingly hard. It’s not the first time they’ve woken up like this, but it’s less than ideal when they’re not supposed to _do_ anything about it anymore. Never mind the fact that Matt is still snoring away on the other side of Frank.

Gerard takes stock of the situation and finds that Frank has one leg slung over his hip and both arms wrapped around his middle. His head is resting on Gerard’s shoulder, and Gerard can feel Frank’s breath through his t-shirt. He blinks wide at the ceiling a few times, half cursing God and half praying for a way out of this.

Slowly, he brings a hand up to the arm Frank has draped over his stomach. He grips Frank’s forearm gently but firmly and starts sliding it back towards Frank’s body. Frank mumbles unhappily and pushes his arm back, clinging even more tightly to Gerard than before. Gerard sighs and lets go, trying to think of a different approach. This time, he pushes Frank’s leg off him, and he’s almost successful except that Frank’s thigh brushes his still uncomfortably hard cock and he gasps, loud.

Frank’s leg slides off him completely, and then, to Gerard’s horror, Frank opens his eyes. He looks up at Gerard confusedly for a moment while Gerard heaves a few breaths and stares back at him wide-eyed. The confusion in Frank’s eyes slowly clears as he comes back to himself, and suddenly he yanks his arms away from Gerard and pushes himself back towards Matt, who grunts in his sleep. Gerard stares at Frank for another incredibly tense moment as Frank stares right back, now looking just as surprised and panicked as Gerard feels.

Without his say-so, Gerard’s body decides he should sit straight up in bed, startling Frank and making Matt grunt again and roll over. Gerard tears his eyes away from Frank and scrambles out of bed. He makes his way to what he’s pretty sure is the bathroom as quickly as possible and leans against the back of the door as soon as it’s shut. He closes his eyes and heaves a few heavy breaths, trying to calm down. His dick, thank God, has lost interest in the situation, but it seems his hangover as caught up with him. His stomach rolls and his head pounds as he opens his eyes to find he’s not in the bathroom, but a coat closet. Heat floods his cheeks as he realizes he’s going to have to walk back out into the living room after hiding from Frank _in the closet_.

The cold metal of the door handle digs into his back, taunting him. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, then lets it out through his nose. He opens his eyes again, turns around, grasps the handle, and throws the door open. When the door bangs against the adjacent wall, Gerard realizes he might have been a bit too enthusiastic.

Frank looks up at the noise and furrows his brow at Gerard. Matt finally wakes up and pushes himself up onto his elbows before looking at Gerard groggily.

“What the fuck?” Matt says.

“Sorry,” Gerard replies sheepishly. He steps out of the closet and closes the door behind him. Across from him, he can see another door that’s slightly ajar, and the bathroom is on the other side. He can feel Frank’s eyes on him as he crosses the room and locks himself in the bathroom. Calmly, he kneels in front of the toilet and vomits.

A few minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. “You okay in there, Gee?” Mikey asks.

Gerard pulls his head far enough out of the rim of the toilet to mumble, “Fine,” and then goes back to throwing up everything he consumed in the last twenty-four hours. He doesn’t come out for a good long while, and when he does, he knows he looks like crap.

Everyone is standing in the living room, and they turn to look at Gerard as he exits the bathroom. The room is silent for a moment, Gerard pausing in the doorway with all eyes on him, then, everyone jumps to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation at once. Ray, Matt, and Frank start a conversation that mostly seems to consist of “Yeah”s and “Totally”s as Mikey makes his way over to Gerard.

“Are you okay?” he asks again, sounding dead serious.

Gerard stares at the floor miserably. “I’m fine,” he repeats. When he looks up, Mikey doesn’t seem convinced, but he leaves him alone.

When Ray sees that Mikey and Gerard are done talking, he says, “Well, guess we should get going.”

Thankfully, Gerard doesn’t have to drive again for a while. Mikey volunteers to take the wheel this time, so Gerard sits in the back seat by himself, looking out the window and watching New York roll by, then Connecticut, and finally Massachusetts. After a few hours, they finally come to a stop outside the venue, a club in Worcester that none of them have ever been to.

The Midtown van pulls up just after them, and Gerard watches the guys clamber out looking worn out after just one day of touring. Gabe smiles when he sees Gerard and his bandmates piling out of the My Chem van. He jogs over just as Gerard is hopping down onto the ground.

“Hey, guys,” Gabe says. They all grumble awkward and tired replies. “Uh, I have a friend in Boston. She’s offering us a place to stay for the next few nights, if we want. It’s about an hour drive from here, but it’s better than the van,” he offers.

“Sure,” Ray says. “Thanks for letting us know.”

Gabe nods and writes something down on a scrap of paper Ray offers him. “There’s the address. My phone number’s there too, if you need it.” He hands the paper off to Gerard and winks before jogging back over to where his bandmates are unloading equipment.

Mikey sidles up to Gerard and says in his ear, “He’s not subtle, is he?”

Gerard shakes his head. “I wouldn’t say so, no.”

They unload the van and set up with only a few minor hiccups. Apparently, Ray forgot his entire stash of extra picks, and he doesn’t like the kind Frank and Mikey use. Thankfully, Midtown’s guitarist, Tyler, uses Ray’s favorite brand, and the two of them hit it off after Tyler offers Ray a few.

Soundcheck flows pretty easily after that. Gerard finds that the novelty of performing to an empty room has worn off, and now soundcheck is mostly just boring. It strikes him as a little funny, because he’d been so worried about soundchecking in front of an audience when they first started out, but now he feels like he might actually _prefer_ it that way, just to have an incentive to make a real performance out of it.

The bartender offers Gerard a free beer, which Gerard accepts graciously, and he leans against the wall to watch Midtown’s soundcheck. He appreciates that they seem to take it very seriously, making sure every little thing is right before they take the stage for real later on. Not that his own band doesn’t take soundcheck seriously, but Gerard likes knowing that Midtown isn’t messing around.

He hides out backstage when the doors open, nursing a second beer and chatting with Ray while Midtown shuffles around them with their gear. He hasn’t seen Frank since their soundcheck ended, and he tries not to wonder where he is or what he’s doing. It’s hard to get used to keeping his mind off Frank after thinking about him nearly nonstop for so long, and he still hasn’t gotten out of the habit even though it’s been more than three weeks since they broke up.

When he steps out the side entrance for a smoke, he finds he doesn’t have to wonder where Frank is anymore. He’s there, leaning against the building a few steps from the door and exhaling smoke from his own cigarette towards the sky, his jaw turned upward and his eyes closed a look of pure bliss Gerard recognizes as the first smoke of the day. A wave of déjà vu washes over him, and he’s transported back to John Naclerio’s backyard. In his mind’s eye, Frank is looking at him, his gaze deadly serious. “I never told you that I love you.” Gerard replays the moment in his head a few times, and wonders if Frank would still say the same thing now. Probably not, he decides.

Just then, Frank opens his eyes and glances over. He doesn’t seem shocked to see Gerard, and that angers him for some reason. This has all seemed so _easy_ for Frank, like he moved on as soon as Gerard broke their final kiss in Frank’s kitchen. It’s not fair, and Gerard is sick of it. If it doesn’t bother Frank, then it doesn’t bother him either.

Gerard leans against the building next to Frank, closer than he would if he wasn’t dead set on proving he’s not still hurting. He extracts a cigarette from his pack and holds it in his mouth while he fishes for his lighter. Horror dawns on him when he realizes it must have fallen out of his pocket sometime between his first smoke this morning and now. He digs through all his pockets twice to be sure, but he can’t find in anywhere.

“Here,” Frank says suddenly. Gerard looks up, expecting Frank to hand him a lighter, but Frank is already moving in, lighter in hand. He cups Gerard’s cigarette with his other hand while he lights the end of it, intently focused on the cherry as it begins burning.

Gerard can’t drag his eyes away from Frank’s face, so close to his own, closer than they’ve been in weeks. It feels warmer with Frank so close, and not just because of the lighter and Frank’s body heat. It feels like the sun has just come out and washed over Gerard with a warm smile, but as Frank steps away, he looks up to see the sun firmly hidden behind grey clouds, and the warmth fades.

With a start, Gerard realizes his cigarette has been burning for a while and he hasn’t even inhaled. He takes a drag, lets it out, and doesn’t look at Frank as he says, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Frank replies, his voice a little rough.

They smoke in silence. Gerard thinks he feels Frank’s eyes on him a few times, but he doesn’t allow himself to look. After a while, Frank sighs, and Gerard can’t help himself. He glances over and watches as Frank drops his finished cigarette on the concrete and grinds it down under the toe of his Chucks.

“See you inside,” he says as he brushes past Gerard and disappears through the side door.

Gerard lets out a long breath and focuses on releasing the tension in his shoulders. He knew it would be hard, but he didn’t expect it to be _this hard_ and he sort of regrets starting the stupid band in the first place. It’s all clear to him now. From the moment Gerard found out who Frank really was, that he was in Pencey and that he was born to be in bands, he was destined to join My Chem. Gerard shouldn’t have even bothered messing around with both their feelings. He shouldn’t have made either of them choose. But he did, and it’s too late to go back now.

His cigarette is down to the filter, so he stubs it out against the wall of the building and drops it on the ground beside Frank’s. As he steps back inside, he takes a deep breath and desperately hopes for the best.

~

The rest of the day flies by in a whirlwind of adrenaline and alcohol. The show is even better than the one the night before with the crowd really getting into it and being receptive of My Chem’s sound. They go harder for Midtown than the Knitting Factory scene too, and again Gerard feels tempted to join in, but he stays in the calmer areas of the crowd or near the bar instead. He sees Frank going at it a few times, throwing his weight around and smiling wide. Matt comes up to him at the bar at one point, looking and acting more drunk than Gerard. It makes him a little annoyed, because Matt was supposed to drive them to Boston tonight, but he knows Ray will give Matt shit for it anyway, so he stays quiet.

“Hey,” Matt says, lazy and slow. “How you doin’, man?”

Gerard smiles. “‘M all right. How ‘bout you?”

Matt nods a few times. “‘M okay, okay, yeah. Hey,” his voice turns a little more serious then, and he looks at Gerard dead on, “you ever notice that Frank…” he trails off and nods his head towards the crowd where Frank is looking like he’s having the time of his life grinding against some punk twink nearly a foot taller than him. Gerard feels a wave of jealousy roll in his belly and tries to suppress it.

Gerard frowns. “That Frank what?”

“I dunno…” Matt sighs heavily. “That he seems a little, ya know, gay?”

Gerard snorts a laugh, he can’t help it. “Yeah?”

“Oh.” Matt looks confused.

“You didn’t know?” Gerard is having a hard time believing it, having felt like he and Frank we so obvious. All of Pencey knew about them, even, but apparently his own bandmates were out of the loop.

“No.” Matt looks like he’s trying to figure out how to word his next question, and Gerard prepares himself for the worst. “Doesn’t it, uh, like, bother you?”

“Does it bother _you_?” Gerard asks pointedly.

Matt shrugs. “Not sure.” He pauses and looks thoughtful. “No, I guess not.”

Gerard nods. “Good.” He scans the crowd again and finds that he can’t see Frank anymore. Maybe that’s for the best, he thinks.

“Are you?”

Gerard whips his head around to look at Matt again. “Gay?”

“Yeah.”

He considers his answer for a moment. If Matt hasn’t caught on to his relationship with Frank or Gabe’s flirting, then Matt must really be the most oblivious fucker out there. Telling the truth could cause trouble, and he’s already given up a lot to _avoid_ trouble in the band, but lying wouldn’t be right either, especially not to himself.

“Yeah. I am,” he says finally.

“Oh,” Matt repeats. “Okay.”

“That cool with you?” Gerard asks, really only willing to accept an affirmative answer.

Thankfully, he gets one. “Yeah. ‘S fine, dude.” Matt knocks him lightly on the shoulder. “See ya ‘round.” He ambles off into the crowd, leaving Gerard alone at the bar again.

Gerard sips his beer and shakes his head incredulously. “Straight people,” he says under his breath.

~

Ray does indeed chew Matt out for drinking when he’d agreed to drive. Mikey offers to take them to Boston, but he’s been drinking too. The only one of them who hasn’t is Ray, and he’s pissed about it because he already drove them over an hour in the rain to his apartment last night. But he only grumbles for a few minutes before he gets in the driver’s seat and yells at them to buckle up before he drives off without them.

Mikey sits in the back row with Gerard and tries to draw him into a conversation about comics, but it proves hopeless. It’s not that Gerard _doesn’t_ want to talk about comics, but he’s got too much on his mind to hold a proper conversation. Instead, he stares at the back of Frank’s head two rows ahead of him and tries to figure out what’s going on in there. It’s maddening, not knowing how Frank is feeling. He’s decided that there’s no possible way Frank is fine and dandy with everything that happened between them and isn’t hurting at all. Some part of him knows that he can’t accept that as fact because it would mean their relationship didn’t mean as much to Frank as he though it did, and that makes it hurt even more, but it also seems impossible that Frank could give up so easily on something they both were so invested in. When the van comes to a stop outside the address Gabe had given them, Gerard still hasn’t gotten any closer to figuring out what’s going on with Frank.

Gerard looks out through the window and almost can’t believe what he sees. It’s a house. A real, actual house, and they get to stay in it. When they climb out of the van, they find that Midtown has beaten them there, and Gabe greets them at the door when they knock, bags slung over their shoulders.

“Come on in, guys!” He stands to the side to let them all in and then closes the door behind them. He gestures to a tall, blonde woman standing in the living room with a bottle of beer. “This is Tanya, she owns the place.”

“Hey, guys,” she greets them with a smile. They wave back and say their hellos and thank you’s. “Gabe can show you around. Come get me if you need anything.”

Gabe leads them up a narrow staircase off the main entrance. Upstairs, there are five bedrooms. Five. Whole. Bedrooms. Gabe gestures to each door in the hallway as he talks. “Tyler and I are taking this one, that one is Heath and Rob’s, the master at the end is Tanya’s, and the other two are yours. There’s a bathroom between your two rooms and another one downstairs off the living room.”

“Thanks, man. This is so fucking awesome,” Matt says, and Gerard really has to agree.

Just then, Tyler pokes his head out of the first door on their left. “Hey, guys! Oh, Ray, come here, I wanted to show you something.” Ray disappears into the room and the door shuts behind him.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Matt says to Mikey, patting him on the back. “You can room with me.”

Mikey looks at Matt confusedly. “Okay?”

Gerard watches the scene unfold with dawning horror. He considers mentioning the couch he saw downstairs in the living room and how comfortable it looked, but before he knows it, Gabe is ushering them into their respective bedrooms, and then door is closing behind them and he’s alone with Frank.

Behind him, he can hear Frank breathing, neither of them moving or saying anything. The tension physically hurts; it’s so unbearably thick and Gerard can’t stand it. He crosses the room to the queen bed against the back wall and drops his bag down on the floor beside it. Digging through his bag quickly, he pulls out a soft t-shirt and a pair of sweats, and then brushes past Frank without a word. He makes his way to the bathroom as quietly as possible, wincing at the squeaking floorboards beneath his feet. In the bathroom, he flips on the light and then takes his shirt off before splashing some cold water on his face. He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, trying to muster up the strength to sleep in a bed with Frank _alone_ and not mess everything up, in more ways than one.

He sighs and pulls the pajama shirt over his head and then trades his jeans for the sweatpants. He catches another glance of himself in the mirror and realizes he’s wearing Frank’s Black Flag t-shirt. He doesn’t remember packing it, so he must have done it without thinking. It’s too late to go back and get a different shirt, so he just shakes his head and turns the light off in the bathroom as he leaves.

Frank has already changed by the time he gets back. As he closes the door behind him, Frank looks up from where he’s sitting on the bed with a book in his lap, the bedside lamp bathing him in soft light. His eyes linger on Gerard’s shirt, but he doesn’t say anything and instead goes back to his book. Gerard shoves his dirty clothes back into his duffle and then slides under the covers, careful to keep his body as close to the edge as possible and his back to Frank. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and tries to ignore the light of the lamp and the sound of Frank flipping pages in his book. Even through his exhaustion, he can’t shut his mind down, and he finds himself anticipating every sound Frank makes.

Eventually, Frank sighs and turns out the light. Gerard feels the bed shift beneath him as Frank slides deeper under the covers and gets comfortable. There’s a few moments where the only sounds are their mingled breaths and a tree branch scraping against the window to Gerard’s left, and then the sheets crinkle as Frank suddenly turns over.

He can’t be sure, but he thinks he can feel Frank’s eyes drilling holes in his back. He has a strong, irrational urge to turn over, but he knows that will most likely end in disaster, so he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his eyes shut and listens for any noise.

“I know you’re not asleep,” Frank says suddenly, breaking the still quiet. There’s a pause, and then Frank says, “Gerard,” and his voice breaks.

Gerard exhales and opens his eyes slowly, staring at the wall. “Yeah?”

“Come on,” Frank says pleadingly.

Still, Gerard doesn’t turn over. “What?” he asks, trying to keep his voice even.

“ _Look_ at me, you motherfucker.” Frank smacks Gerard’s shoulder as he says it.

Gerard closes his eyes again for a moment, and then opens them and slowly turns over. Frank is staring at him, his eyes wide as saucers. He looks sad, and Gerard almost can’t bear to look him in the eye.

When Frank speaks, his voice is desperate and broken. “You never _look_ at me anymore.”

Gerard doesn’t know what to say to that. He stares back at Frank, finding it harder and harder to keep looking the longer the moment drags on. Finally, he says in an uneven voice, “I can’t. Anymore. I’m sorry, I can’t.” He closes his eyes as he says it. It’s either that or kiss Frank in a feeble attempt to make it all better, and one of those things can’t happen. Ever again. His heart aches with it, torn open and bleeding. He wants to wrap his arms around Frank, hold him against his chest and tell him everything is going to be okay. They’re so close, he can feel Frank’s rapid breaths on his chin, but he can’t reach out, can’t touch him.

“I miss you,” Frank whispers.

Gerard opens his eyes. Frank’s eyes are glistening, and his face is so open it makes Gerard want to cry too; all the hurt that he knew Frank must have been feeling is now clearly written in his expression. “I’m here,” Gerard says. He knows it’s a stupid thing to say, that that’s not how Frank meant it, but he can’t give himself to Frank like he wants.

“Can we just– Can you please just hold me? I’m not asking for anything. I just want–”

“Okay,” Gerard cuts him off without thinking about what it means that he just said yes other than that it’ll make Frank feel better.

Frank immediately looks relieved. He scoots over and pillows his head on Gerard’s chest. Gerard brings his arm up and wraps it around Frank’s back, holding him looser than he usually would. He usually wouldn’t hold him at _all_ , not anymore, he remembers, and tries to think of their actions as purely platonic. They’re not, though, and Gerard knows it and he knows Frank knows it too. They’re pushing the boundaries of what’s allowed and nothing good can come from it.

Except, Gerard feels okay for the first time in weeks. The familiarity of Frank in his arms grounds him in a way that he hasn’t felt since the last time they laid like this. It feels like this is where he’s meant to be, comforting Frank when he’s sad. He just wishes that he wasn’t the one to cause Frank’s pain in the first place, and that after tonight he’d be able to do this again. But he can’t. Pretending that this isn’t breaking the rules is wrong, and Gerard can’t make a decision like that for the band when he’s only one member. This bigger than him, bigger than both of them. It always was.

But for now, he holds Frank in his arms and pretends that it’s how it used to be. He closes his eyes, relaxes back into the mattress, and listens to Frank’s breaths even out. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he does remember the gentle thud of Frank’s heartbeat against his chest, steady and sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Spoiler Alert* (but just about the length of the story, nothing plot-specific)  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> I've written about 104k of this fic so far, and I'm expecting it to be somewhere between 110k and 120k when it's done, just so you know about how long it's gonna be until that happy ending. If you can't stick around that long, I don't blame you. But if you can make it please know that I love and appreciate you very much!!!


	24. Chapter 24

After awkwardly waking up in bed together, Frank steers clear of Gerard for the next week of the tour. Or, at least, Gerard figures Frank must be working pretty hard to avoid him, but he’s not obvious about it. It’s just that somehow, Gerard is always where Frank is not, and vice versa. Except when they’re in the van or on stage, of course, but even then, they don’t look at each other. Or they try not to, at least.

They end up having to spend a night in the van after they play a show in Rhode Island at a _hotel_ for fuck’s sake, because they still can’t find anywhere to stay. Midtown got a room at a motel nearby, but My Chem is already stretched thin and they’ve only got enough for food and gas for the rest of the tour.

It’s tough, but Gerard thinks he can live with sleeping in the van a few more times. It’s actually not so bad, if you get a row to yourself. Gerard lucked out by falling asleep in the back row before they even pulled over for the night, but when he woke up sometime around 4am he saw Mikey and Ray sprawled over each other on the seat in front of him, and Matt and Frank kicking each other every few minutes in the front row.  It was kind of nice being awake when everyone else was asleep. When they’re driving, the van is always filled with noise, and Gerard appreciated the liveliness of it for a few days before it got to be too much, but it seems that his bandmates enjoy the constant pounding bass of the stereo and raucous laughter even late at night when they’re all exhausted from the show. Gerard loves them, he really does, and it hasn’t been hard to get along just fine with everyone on tour, except Frank, that is, but it’s all a bit much. He misses his basement and the silence and solitude that comes with it.

Still, overall, it hasn’t been as hard as he expected. They play two shows in New Jersey after Rhode Island with a day off in between, and the venues are close enough to Belleville that they’re able to go home for all three nights. Ray crashes in Mikey’s room instead of going back to his apartment in the City, which Gerard understands but feels sad a little sad for Ray that he doesn’t get to go home. Ray seems content to stay with them, though, graciously accepting Donna’s attempts at cooking and acting like his usual saintly self.

The hometown shows are good. Midtown brings out the Rutgers crowd, some of which are also there for My Chem because of Frank’s connections, which means that both Gabe and Frank are busy with friends from home. One thing Gerard hadn’t anticipated having trouble with, though, is his family. They all decide to come watch him and Mikey play on their second night in Jersey, and it makes the two of them much more nervous than they already are. Gerard’s not exactly sure why he feels this way, because it’s not like his family is going to be disappointed, but for some reason he worries that something will go terribly wrong, that he’ll forget the lyrics or his mic will break or the ceiling will cave in and everyone will die. Just before they go on, Mikey pulls him to the side and expresses similar thoughts, confiding in Gerard in a way he hasn’t done in who knows how long. He confesses to not wanting to take the stage at all, and Gerard really feels for him, but, as he tells Mikey with an ironic smile, “The show must go on, dude.”

And it does. And everything is fine and everyone lives. Gerard actually has more fun than usual with the highly receptive Jersey crowd. He’s a little more drunk than usual, too, but that only pushes him to express just how much he loves everyone in the audience and how beautiful a crowd they are. And how beautiful _Jersey_ is, which isn’t something he had ever really believed before.

As good as the hometown shows are, they’re exhausting, and Gerard can’t quite believe they’ve only been at this for one week. After a final night sleeping in their own beds, they head to Philadelphia and play two shows there. The first is at a venue Gerard has actually been to before, the Electric Factory. It’s not quite as cool as Knitting, but it still makes him think about the times he’s been there as part of the crowd rather than performing. And he’s surprised to find that he’s not the least bit jealous of the people at his feet; he doesn’t wish he was there rather than on stage. The second venue, the Theatre of Living Arts, is kind of odd, and Gerard decides he likes it immediately. He finds himself downright excited for the show, excited for the crowd it will bring and the energy that’ll fill the room.

During shows, he tries not to look at Frank any more than necessary, but every time he catches a glimpse of Frank rolling around on the floor, soaked in sweat with his shirt rucked up and his hair a mess, he has to force himself to look away before he forgets what he’s doing. It gets harder each time it happens, making it more and more of struggle not to just stop and stare at Frank.

On their second night in Philly, he almost does.

It’s only lasts for a moment longer than usual, but as Gerard glances at Frank and sees him bucking his hips up into his guitar, grinding into it like it’s the best fuck he’s ever had, Frank opens his eyes. Gerard tries to look away, but Frank catches him staring, and suddenly he can’t. The thing is, Frank doesn’t stop. If anything, he goes at it harder, dropping his mouth open and rutting against his guitar more insistently. Gerard can’t hear over the sound of the crowd and the music, but he knows the face Frank is making, sees his throat working, and Gerard can tell he’s moaning as he rubs himself off.

So far, Gerard has avoided getting hard on stage. He’s come close to it a few times due to the rush he gets from performing, especially when he’s drunk and loose, but it’s never actually happened. Until now.

 _Now_ , Gerard is hard as a rock, and it happens so fast that for a moment he feels like he might faint. Watching Frank, he really can’t help it. He does manage to resist the urge to adjust himself, but only because he knows that that will definitely tip the audience off to what’s going on in his pants, if they haven’t figured it out already.

The moment seems to stretch on forever, but Gerard knows it can’t have been more than a few seconds because everyone is still playing through the bridge. Finally, with much difficulty, he tears his eyes away from Frank’s and focuses on the music just in time to come in on the next verse. He sings through it, but he can still feel Frank’s eyes on him. He leans forward, trying to hide the bulge in his jeans, partly from the audience but mostly from Frank. He has no idea if it works – he’s too nervous about drawing attention to himself to check – but at least he can’t hear anyone laughing at him.

Somehow, he finishes the show. He stays hard the entire time which he finds a little ridiculous, but when they leave the stage he decides he has to _do_ something about it before getting back in the van. Of course, he could always jerk off in the back seat after everyone’s asleep, but that involves a lot of risk and waiting, and he thinks he might not be able to deal with that.

While the rest of the guys are packing up, he excuses himself to the bathroom and quickly locks himself in a stall. He’s alone, thank God, and he gets pants unbuckled and a hand around his cock as fast as he can. It’s such a relief that he can’t help sighing with the first few strokes, going slower than he should be. He starts to move faster, but then stops to lick a stripe from the heel of his hand to his fingertips, and then goes back to it. Leaning against the wall, his head falls back and his mouth drops open. He pushes his hips forward into the tight ring of his fist and tries desperately to think of anything and anyone but Frank.

He fails miserably. Every image behind his eyes is Frank. Frank on his hands and knees, waiting for Gerard to push into him from behind. Frank staring up at Gerard as he sucks his cock. Frank riding Gerard like he can’t get enough and never will. Frank standing there, next to Gerard in the bathroom stall, reaching a hand down and jacking Gerard off himself. That’s the one that makes Gerard come, with a shout that’s far too loud for a public bathroom.

Thankfully, when he leaves the stall he finds he’s still alone. He washes his hands, pushes his hair out of his eyes, and overall tries to look like he hasn’t just been jerking off. When he gets back to the van, no one looks at him twice, so he figures he’s succeeded. But then he catches Frank staring at him. He’s not be exceedingly obvious, but it still makes Gerard nervous that someone is going to notice. Gerard’s in his usual place in the back row, and Frank has the front row to himself with Mikey and Ray sharing the middle row while Matt drives. Frank is turned sideways with his back to the window, leaning his head on his arm against the backrest. And he’s staring at Gerard. It’s not a friendly stare, either, Gerard’s pretty sure. If he had to interpret it, Gerard would say Frank wants to talk. In private. A heavy feeling settles in the pit of Gerard’s stomach like he swallowed a rock, and he looks away, trying not to think about what might happen the next time he and Frank are alone.

They drive from Philadelphia to Delaware, where apparently Midtown’s drummer, Rob, has some friends who are letting them all stay in their house. When they pull up, Gerard is a little sad to find that it’s not as big or impressive as Tanya’s, but there are still enough empty bedrooms for them to fit comfortably. Gerard panics for a moment, thinking he’ll get paired with Frank again, especially when Mikey heads off with Ray without even a spare glance at Gerard, but suddenly Gabe is patting Gerard on the shoulder and asking if he wants to room with him.

“Tyler is my usual bunk buddy,” he tells Gerard, “but he wants to _catch up_ with the girls, so…” He wiggles is eyebrows to emphasize just what ‘catching up’ means, and Gerard nods awkwardly. He can feel Frank’s eyes on him as he follows Gabe down a hallway, but he refuses to look back.

They pick a bedroom that feels as big as a master suite after the last few nights in the van. Gerard laughs when Gabe falls onto the bed on his back and then starfishes in the middle of it, reveling in the ample space.

“You’ve been in motel rooms, you spoiled motherfucker,” Gerard jokes.

“Yeah,” Gabe says, grinning, “with four other guys. This feels like heaven.”

Gerard chuckles and then roots through his bag for something comfortable to sleep in. He’s about to go look for a bathroom to change in when he turns around and finds Gabe off the bed and standing. He’s shirtless, now in the process of unbuckling his jeans. Against his will, Gerard’s mouth drops open and he goes stock still.

Gabe glances up and freezes as well, belt in hand. “Oh,” he says. He laughs awkwardly. “Sorry, I didn’t even think– I’ll just, um…” Gabe picks out a change of clothes and heads towards the door.

“No,” Gerard finds himself saying when Gabe’s hand lands on the door knob. Gabe stops and turns back around. “No, it’s fine.” Gerard can’t help staring at Gabe’s lean, muscular chest and stomach. His eyes travel down Gabe’s body and he knows he’s being pretty obvious about it, but Gabe’s been pretty obvious since the tour started, so he doesn’t feel all that embarrassed.

Slowly, Gerard reaches for the hem of his own t-shirt and pulls it over his head, trying not to think about how different his body is from Gabe’s. He raises his eyes to Gabe’s face and finds that Gabe is staring back, seemingly transfixed, though Gerard has a hard time believing he could be responsible for that.

Gabe drops his clothes on the ground and moves his hands to his fly, slowly unbuttoning and unzipping his skinny jeans and then letting them fall to his ankles. As he steps out of his pants, Gerard watches the material of Gabe’s boxers shift and crinkle. He finds himself wanting to close the distance between them, undress Gabe the rest of the way himself.

Instead, he removes his own jeans, even more slowly than Gabe had. Again, he tries not to compare his own body to Gabe’s, but he can’t help it. His pudgy belly is nothing like Gabe’s smooth, flat stomach, and Gabe’s toned calves and thighs stand in stark contrast to Gerard’s pale legs. Gabe doesn’t seem to mind, though, because he takes a step forward and reaches out hesitantly.

“Can I?” he asks.

Gerard hesitates for a moment, considering whether or not he really wants to do this. He’s still not completely sure when he says, “Yeah,” but he doesn’t want to back out after getting this far.

Gabe takes another step and lets his hand fall on Gerard’s shoulder. He runs his fingers over the skin, making Gerard shiver and break out in goosebumps. “You're so…” Gabe trails off.

“What?” Gerard nearly whispers. He doesn’t mean to sound so desperate, but it comes out that way.

Gabe meets his eye and tightens his grip on Gerard’s shoulder. “Beautiful,” he says.

Gerard’s not sure what to say to that, so he keeps his mouth shut and falls into Gabe’s intense gaze. Gabe brings his other hand up to Gerard’s jaw and very, very slowly leans in. When Gabe’s eyes slide shut, Gerard snaps back to his body and realizes what’s about to happen, but he can’t seem to move. Gabe’s breath ghosts over his lips, and he wants to give in, but the angle is weird, having to lift his chin up towards Gabe rather than stoop down. Still, it feels like years since he’s been touched like this, tenderly and undemanding, and he aches with it. Gerard closes his eyes as Gabe’s lips press lightly against his own. Gabe sighs softly and catches Gerard’s lower lip. Gerard’s hands instinctively find Gabe’s hips, but he doesn’t do more than gently rest them there. Before he’s ready for it, Gabe’s tongue is swiping along the seam of his lips, and he opens his mouth in surprise. Gabe tastes like mint gum and chocolate, and while it’s not bad, it strikes Gerard as deeply wrong. He wants smoke and vodka and cheap beer. He wants the cool metal of a lip ring sliding against his tongue. He wants–

“I’m sorry,” Gerard says with a gasp as he breaks the kiss. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t, um, do this.” He takes his hands off Gabe’s hips and steps back, Gabe’s fingers sliding against his chest as they fall away. Gabe looks confused, and maybe a little hurt, but not mad. “It’s just, I’m–” Gerard swallows hard. “I’m in love with someone else.” It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud, and as soon as it’s out of his mouth it feels more real than ever. He’s in _love_ , with someone who loves him back, and they can’t be together.

Gabe’s face clears and he nods. “No, I get it. No hard feelings.”

They stand there awkwardly for a moment before Gabe turns and pulls on his sleep clothes. Gerard does the same, not looking at Gabe as they both slide into bed. When Gabe is settled under the covers beside him, Gerard forces himself to look. Gabe is staring at the ceiling with his eyes open, mouth turn downwards.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Gerard says quietly.

Gabe startles and turns to look at Gerard. His eyebrows knit together. “You didn’t. I thought you weren’t interested, to be honest.”

“Oh,” Gerard says and looks away.

There’s a pause, and then they sheets rustle as Gabe turns onto his side towards Gerard. “You wanna talk about him?” Gerard darts his gaze back to Gabe and looks at him confusedly. “The guy, the one you’re in love with. You can tell me about him, if you want.”

Gerard considers it for a moment, letting his face relax. Gabe looks open and trusting, willing to take any answer Gerard could give. “Um, well. It’s complicated.”

Gabe snorts. “I figured that much.”

Gerard smiles a little, but it fades quickly. “We can’t– With the band, it wouldn’t work,” he confesses.

“Yeah, it’s hard. I had a girlfriend before our first tour. Loved her to death. But I was gone for two months, and when I got back things were… different.” Gerard feels the need to correct Gabe, but he knows that would give him away, so he stays silent. Gabe’s mouth forms a hard line as he looks at Gerard. “You guys are going places. You guys are gonna be big, I can feel it. Sometimes, you gotta choose between band life and home life. And it fucking sucks.”

Gerard nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gabe pauses for another moment, looking like he’s considering something. “If you really think he’s, like, _the one_ , or whatever, then maybe… maybe you should go for it.”

“Did you think she was the one? Your girlfriend?” Gerard cringes internally at how personal the question is, but it’s out of his mouth before he can stop it.

Gabe grimaces, then smiles sheepishly. “Yeah. But I was wrong, or it would’ve worked, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Gabe turns onto his back and stares at the ceiling again. Gerard does the same. They lie there for a few minutes, breathing evenly.

“Just–” Gabe starts suddenly, breaking the silence. Gerard looks to his right, but Gabe is still gazing straight up. “If it’s messing with you this much, maybe it’s worth a try.”

“Maybe,” Gerard agrees.

Gabe rolls over to face the wall, the ridges of his spine poking through his t-shirt. Gerard watches him for a while, measures time by Gabe’s back expanding and deflating with his breaths. Eventually, he turns to face the other way and loses himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol the past 3 chapters have ended with intense scenes in beds. And not the good kind.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have read in the tags, I HAVE WRITTEN THE HAPPY ENDING. I FINISHED WRITING THIS FIC. AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!! I still have to edit everything that hasn't been published yet but it's done!!!! The rest is coming very soon :)

A soft knock at the door drags Gerard out of sleep. It’s so quiet that he almost thinks he imagined it, but then it comes again, slightly more insistent. Gabe is gone, Gerard notices a little sadly, and the sheets are cold. A cool rush of air hits him as he slides out of bed, and he wishes whoever is on the other side of the door would just go away. He pads to the door anyway and pauses for only a second before opening it.

“Hey,” Frank says, not meeting Gerard’s eye. He’s fully dressed and looks like he’s been up for hours, dark circles under his eyes from too little sleep. “Can we talk?” He pushes into the room before Gerard can say anything, and then stares at Gerard expectantly.

After managing to rein in his surprise, Gerard closes the door and turns to face Frank. “About what?” he asks.

Frank shrugs and drops his gaze.

“We can’t talk if I don’t know what we’re talking about.”

“I had a dream, yesterday when I took a nap after soundcheck. A nightmare,” Frank says, still staring at the floor. “The band failed, and I had to work some shit office job for the rest of my life and I was fucking miserable.”

Gerard has no idea where this is going, and he can’t think of any way to respond, so he stays quiet and lets Frank work out his thoughts.

Finally, Frank looks up. “I don’t want that. I’d rather fucking die than work a job like that, Gee.”

“I know,” Gerard says. He does know. He can’t imagine Frank sitting behind a desk, crunching numbers and taking phone calls. That’s not a context Frank belongs in. Ever.

“I need to do something so that it can’t happen.” He pauses for a moment, and Gerard has the feeling that Frank has rehearsed this. “I want a tattoo, on my neck.”

“Um.” Gerard knows it’s one of the worst ideas Frank has ever had, but he finds himself supporting him anyway. “Okay, when we get home you can–”

“No,” Frank cuts in. “I want it now. I _need_ it now.” A bit of panic seeps into Franks eyes and Gerard can tell the nightmare is still gripping him. “Please go with me?”

“I– Frankie, this is… Shouldn’t you think about this?”

“I’ve thought about it,” Frank says firmly.

Gerard looks at Frank for a moment, takes in his tired eyes and his dirty hair, his clothes that have been worn at least two times past thoroughly gross. “Okay. I– Yeah, I’ll go with you.”

Frank exhales. “Thank you,” he says, and then, “Get dressed.” Frank leaves the room so fast Gerard almost doesn’t realize what happened, but when he does, he quickly pulls on jeans and a t-shirt and slides on Mikey’s old New Balances that he barely even thinks of as Mikey’s anymore.

Frank is waiting for him when he leaves the room. He thinks about mentioning that he should brush his teeth before they leave, but Frank looks like he’s on a mission and he’s not about to be slowed down.

They set off down the hallway and pass Ray and Mikey in the living room. They’re on the couch, watching some stupid sit com that has them both cracking up.

“We’re taking the van,” Frank says simply. “Be back later.”

Mikey gives Gerard a look, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Cool,” Ray says, and turns back to the TV.

They unhitch the trailer and then Frank goes straight to the driver’s side of the van, so Gerard guesses he knows where they’re going. The drive is awkward. Even more awkward than Gerard expected. Frank doesn’t touch the radio and he bats Gerard’s hand away when he tries to turn it on.

“Don’t,” Frank says. “I need to think.”

He drives them to what must count as the downtown of the small college town they’ve stopped in for the day. Gerard’s never been to Delaware and he doesn’t see of much reason to return. They could be in Ohio or Oregon or Nebraska for all he knows; it looks the same as anywhere. They park on Main Street and get out of the van, slamming the doors behind them. It’s only late May, but the midday sun above them feels swelteringly hot. Gerard sort of regrets wearing all black.

Frank marches down the street and comes to a stop outside a shop with “Tattoo” displayed in the window. He takes a breath and casts a glance at Gerard before yanking open the door and stepping inside. The shop is cool, and it smells like disinfectant. The buzzing of a tattoo gun greets them as the door closes behind them, the bell above it chiming softly.

The buzzing stops momentarily, and then starts up again. Suddenly, Gerard remembers what tattoos mean. Needles. He feels a little stupid having agreed to this when he knows he won’t be able to sit there while Frank’s flesh is marred by multiple needles jabbing into his skin repeatedly, and he’s just about to say something to Frank when a woman appears from behind a partition and moves to stand behind the receptionist desk.

She’s heavily tattooed with bright red hair and multiple face piercings. She smiles warmly, and it makes Gerard want to smile back, be he can’t manage it right now. “Hey, I’m Jamie. What are you two in for today?” she asks with a mischievous note in her voice.

“I only have forty-three dollars,” Frank confesses, “but I need a tattoo.”

Jamie laughs. “Let’s see what we can do.” She pores over the books for a moment before saying, “Jeff has a cancellation in half an hour. For something simple, I think we can get you in.”

“Thank you,” Frank says sincerely.

“What’s your name, hon?”

“Frank. Frank Iero. I-E-R-O,” he says for good measure.

Jamie nods and writes something down. “What are you getting and where?”

Frank glances at Gerard, who stares helplessly back. “Um,” Frank says, not looking away. “I think… a scorpion.” He turns to Jamie then, and nods like he’s warming up to the idea. “Yeah. A scorpion would be good. On my neck. Can he do that?”

“You’d have to ask him, but between you and me, I think that’ll be just fine.” She makes a few more notes and then leaves them in the lobby. “I’ll be back soon.”

Frank sits on one of the leather couches and fidgets more than usual. Gerard plops down next to him and tries to ignore Frank’s shuffling until he can’t anymore.

“Hey,” he says. Frank looks up at him and stills momentarily. “Why are you nervous?”

“‘M not nervous,” Frank says defensively. He makes a frustrated noise and rolls his eyes. “I’m a little nervous. But it’s more like I’m nervous _not_ having it already. Like any second I’m gonna wake up for real and my whole life will have been a dream and I’m actually just some loser who sells paperclips for a living and eats stale leftovers every night for dinner.”

“You already eat stale left overs every night,” Gerard points out. Frank groans and puts his head in his hands. Gerard hesitates for a moment, and then places a hand on Frank’s back, rubbing it soothingly. He feels some of the tension drain out of Frank’s body almost immediately. “That’s never gonna happen,” Gerard says softly. “You were born to do music, Frankie, and that’s what you’re always gonna do.”

Frank nods, face still buried in his palms. “I know, just– I gotta make sure. I gotta make anything else impossible.”

“I know,” Gerard says.

Just then, Jamie reappears. Gerard snatches his hand back as Frank lifts his head up. “He’s ready for you if you are,” Jamie says.

Frank nods and rises to his feet. Gerard stays seated, and Frank looks at him confusedly. “You comin’?” he asks.

Gerard opens his mouth to mention his paralyzing fear of needles, but nothing comes out. He clamps his mouth shut and nods, standing up and following Frank and Jamie behind the partition. The walls are painted a deep red, but Gerard almost can’t tell with the amount of art covering them. There’s paintings and prints and flash sheets plastered to nearly every inch of the room, and Gerard knows he could spend a week just looking at all of it.

Jamie leads them past a young woman getting a tattoo on her forearm, and Gerard cringes while Frank peers at her curiously. There’s another table at the back of the room, where a gruff-looking man is getting supplies ready.

“Howdy,” he says when they approach. “I’m Jeff. You’re Frank?” Frank nods. Jeff looks at Gerard then. “And you are?”

“Gerard.” He clears his throat. “I’m, um, a friend.”

Jeff nods and then gestures for Frank to hop up on the table. “So, a scorpion, huh?”

“Yeah,” Frank says. “I’m a Scorpio. Always thought scorpions were pretty cool.”

“Hmm,” Jeff says. He picks up a piece of paper from the desk beside him and holds it out for Frank. “What do you think of this?”

It’s a simple design, a scorpion about the size of Gerard’s palm. Frank grins and hands the paper back. “I love it,” he says.

“Cool, just gimme a minute,” Jeff says.

Frank and Gerard wait for Jeff to make up a stencil of the scorpion, Frank swinging his legs on the bench and Gerard scanning the art covering the walls. A few minutes later, Jeff tells Frank to hold still as he presses the stencil to his skin, leaving an outline of the design in temporary purple ink.

“Okay, I’m gonna have you lie down on your side now,” Jeff tells Frank, and he obeys. Jeff gets his gun ready and dips into the first color before pausing with the needle above Frank’s neck. “You ready?”

Frank glances at Gerard, who feels a little bit like he might be sick, but when Frank holds his hand out for Gerard, he takes it. “Ready,” he says.

Jeff starts up the gun and the buzzing is even louder than Gerard expected. He grips Frank’s hand like _he’s_ the one getting a tattoo and tries not to look. He slips a few times, and every glance he gets of the needles pushing into Frank’s skin make him want to wrench his hand away and find the nearest bathroom. He doesn’t, though. He stays with Frank and breathes evenly until Jeff is done.

The whole thing doesn’t take all that long, but Gerard feels like they’ve been here forever. When Jeff turns the gun off and tells Frank it’s over, Frank hops up and looks at himself in the mirror happily. He grins at his reflection, stretching his neck in different ways to see the scorpion move.

“I fucking love it! Thank you, dude,” Frank says. He turns to Gerard then, posing so that he can see the tattoo clearly.

Gerard smiles. “It looks good.” And it does. It’s high up on his neck where nothing’s going to cover it. Any job interviewer will see it; Frank got exactly what he wanted. He waits patiently in the lobby while Jeff wraps Frank’s tattoo and goes over the aftercare rules that Frank already knows. When Frank joins him, he’s still smiling, a weight obviously having lifted from his shoulders.

“Feeling better?” Gerard asks.

Frank nods. “Way better.”

They walk back to the van and the sun’s heat doesn’t seem quite so oppressive anymore, even though it’s nearing the middle of the day. “We should hurry,” Frank says as they slide into their seats, looking at the van’s clock.

“Yeah,” Gerard says. They still need to go pack up and then get to the venue in time.

Frank drives them back to the house and re-hitches the trailer while Gerard goes back inside. There’s no one in the living room, and he’s glad for it as he doesn’t really want to have to explain why he was alone with Frank at the moment. He heads down the hallway towards his and Gabe’s room, but just then Mikey pops his head out of another bedroom.

“God!” Gerard says, startled. “Don’t fucking do that, asshole.”

“I thought I heard you,” Mikey says as he pushes his glasses up his nose. He moves into the hallway and shuts the door behind him. “What were you doing with Frank?”

Gerard groans internally. Apparently, he won’t be able to avoid this after all. “He wanted a tattoo, and he wanted me to go with him. I don’t know why.”

Mikey gives him a pointed look and doesn’t say anything.

“It was fine. We’re fine.” _I think_ , Gerard doesn’t say out loud.

Mikey nods. “Okay.” He lets himself back into his room without another word.

Gerard shakes off the encounter and heads down the hallway. Gabe is there when he opens the door to their room, packing up his stuff.

“Oh. Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Gerard greets him. He moves to his duffle and shoves everything inside.

“You guys have anywhere to stay tonight?” Gabe asks.

Gerard turns around, slinging his duffle over his shoulder. “No, we never do. I think it’s because none of us have friends.” He chuckles and Gabe smiles back. “You?” Gerard is thankful Gabe always asks if they’ve got somewhere to stay, and he hopes that Midtown has somewhere for them to stay tonight. He’s _still_ feeling the cramp in his back from when they spent the night in the van two days ago.

Unfortunately, Midtown hasn’t had any luck. “Nope. And we blew all our hotel cash right at the beginning of the tour,” Gabe says. He makes a pained expression and rubs the back of his neck. “We’re not too great at thinking ahead.”

Gerard laughs. “Neither are we. Mikey’s the only one who can do that, and he doesn’t wanna waste the energy because we’ll just fuck up his plans anyway.”

Gabe laughs with him, but then he takes a step forward and knocks Gerard lightly on the shoulder. “You guys aren’t gonna fuck it up.” He looks a little more serious then, and he keeps talking to Gerard like he really means what he’s saying. “I told you. You’re going places. Like, for real.”

“God, I hope so,” Gerard says.

There’s a bit of a pause, and then Gabe says, “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”

~

The rest of the tour passes faster than Gerard would’ve thought. After Delaware, they play a show in Baltimore, one in Richmond, and the last in Nashville. The shows are fine other than that Gerard can’t look at Frank without getting hot and bothered like he’s fifteen again, and they’re not able to score a place to stay for the last three nights. The van gets cold at night, but they don’t have the gas money to keep the heater running when they’re not driving, so Gerard resigns himself to shivering in the back row and trying to get to sleep as fast as possible so he won’t feel the cold anymore.

The show in Nashville feels special. Gerard plays to the crowd even more than usual, knowing that he won’t get the chance for a while. The audience is receptive, cheering and clapping, especially when they leave the stage. As they come off, Gerard looks around to find all his bandmates smiling wide.

“Fuck, guys,” Ray says, sounding exhilarated. “We fucking did it.”

“We really fucking did,” Matt agrees.

“Come on, assholes.” Frank gestures for them to move closer. “Group hug. We deserve it.”

Gerard laughs as they huddle together. He slings one arm around Mikey and the other around Matt, grinning madly. They pull back after a few moments and Gerard feels deeply content. He’d spent so long stressing about going on tour, worried he wasn’t good enough, that they weren’t ready. But they did it, and no one can ever take that away from them.

When Midtown comes on, they thank My Chem for joining them on tour, and the crowd cheers in response. Gerard watches Midtown’s set for the last time and feels a little sad about it. He finds that, even though they’ve only been touring together for two weeks, playing with Midtown feels natural, and he knows he’ll miss watching them perform tomorrow night.

As the night draws to a close, Gerard and his bandmates pack up the van for the thirteen-hour drive home. They’re not leaving until first light tomorrow, after another cold night in the van, but they have to find somewhere safe to park and sleep. Midtown comes out to load their own van, and then they all say goodbye. It’s more emotional than Gerard expected, but he feels a deep connection and sense of gratitude to Midtown as the first band that ever took them on tour.

Even though he didn’t get to know the Midtown guys all that well, he hugs each of them like they’re his brothers. When he gets to Gabe, he’s pulled into a crushing hug.

“You’re gonna fucking change the world, Gee,” Gabe says in his ear. “I can feel it.”

Gerard pulls back and is a little surprised that he feels tears pricking in his eyes. “Thank you, dude. Like, for real, thank you so much.”

Gabe just nods in response as he steps back. They finish saying their goodbyes, and then Midtown is packing into their van and driving off to start the next leg of their tour. Gerard is actually a little sad to be going home instead.

My Chem packs up the rest of their gear and then slides into their usual spots. Frank is driving this time, and he finds them a truck stop parking lot about twenty minutes from the venue where they decide to stop for the night. They’re only going to get about five hours of sleep before they leave the following morning, but it’s safer than driving through the night when they’re all dead on their feet. 

Gerard hops out of the van and heads for the bathroom. He considers jerking off, but he's not sure he can do it fast enough to not be obvious, and he’s really not in the mood to be mocked. While he’s washing his hands, he catches a glimpse of himself in the dirty, scratched mirror, and finds that, no matter how exhausted he may feel, he looks more alive than ever. He looks like a guy who’s actually  _living_  life rather than just letting it pass him by. It’s a nice change from how he used to look, lost and sad without a purpose or a plan.

Outside the bathroom, the cool night air greets him, and he stands there for a moment just breathing it in. The night feels calm, serene, and he revels in the fact that they have almost a month off before their next performance. And then he remembers what it was like in the ten days between recording and leaving on tour, how empty it was without Frank to even talk to, let alone spend as much time as possible with. At least Frank has  _Kevin_  or whoever, Gerard has nothing and no one waiting for him at home. He has nothing to go back to. 

Just then, he hears a wet smacking sound from around the corner, and then a few muffled moans. He rolls his eyes and figures some couple on a road trip couldn’t keep it in their pants long enough to make it wherever they’re going before sucking face. Gerard doesn’t really care, he just wishes they’d do it in their car for fuck’s sake. 

He exhales slowly and then heads back to the van. When he gets there, Frank is already curled up in the first row, looking dead to the world, and Matt is fiddling with his phone in the passenger seat. 

"You're driving first tomorrow, yeah?" Matt whispers when he sees Gerard. 

"Yeah." 

"Get some sleep, dude." 

Gerard nods and then makes his way to the back row. He tries to settle in, but he's kept awake by his thoughts of home. He doesn't see much a point in going back to Jersey if all he's going to do is waste away until their record release, besides the few shows and practices they'll have in between. He can't even begin to think about how he'll fill his days. Maybe he should get a job. He smiles a little at that, remembering how he needed Mikey's help to get a job at Barnes and Nobel as a college graduate. He’s not too keen on going through that process again.

Mikey and Ray come back to the van some time later, sliding the door open and shut as quietly as possible. They both move to the middle row and settle in. Finally, the van is dead quiet, only the occasional rustle of clothes or blankets filling the air. Gerard listens to the sounds of the wind outside, trying to imagine what it would feel like against his skin. It calms him a little, and he's able to finally drift off to sleep while the imaginary wind blows across his face.

~

Driving at six in the morning on only one cup of coffee and a few measly hours of sleep after performing for two weeks straight is probably the hardest thing Gerard's ever had to do. He knows that any of the other guys would be willing to take his place if they thought that would be better, but they're all looking pretty worse for wear. Of the five, Gerard is definitely the most awake and alert, and that's a little terrifying.  

His copilot for the drive is Mikey, who'll be taking over after a couple hours. Gerard's only just started, though, so his reprieve isn't coming any time soon. They woke up at sunrise and got ready to go, grabbing coffee and snacks from the truck stop and then getting on the road as soon as possible. Now, after having driven for nearly an hour, Gerard would really like to stop for coffee again, but he knows that that will only put them behind schedule, and they're already going to be getting into Belleville pretty late as it is. 

Through bleary eyes, Gerard drives. And drives, and drives, and drives. Finally, Mikey lays a hand on his arm and says, "I can drive now, Gee." 

When Gerard looks at the clock, he finds he's been driving for nearly four hours. They still have nine to go. Ray agreed to take over after Mikey, though, so hopefully Gerard won't have to do any more driving today. 

He pulls over at a rest stop and notices some volunteers handing out free coffee, which instantly lifts his spirits. He nearly sprints over to the coffee stand and takes a cup, drinking it down quickly and almost asking for another when he's done, but decides that he shouldn't be greedy. Most of the other guys have gotten out to stretch their legs, get coffee, go to the bathroom, have a smoke, or all of the above, but when Gerard returns to the van, he finds Frank still in the fetal position in the front row, shivering and sweating. 

"Frankie?" Gerard says softly. Frank cracks an eye open. He looks positively miserable. Gerard crouches down on the floor by Frank's head. He kind of wants to brush Frank's hair out of his face, but he stops himself. "Are you all right?" He asks. 

"Sick," Frank says simply. "Happens when I overdo it. Good thing tour's over, right?" He cracks a sardonic smile that Gerard tries to return. 

"You rest, okay? Just a few more hours." 

Frank nods and closes his eyes again, falling back into fitful sleep. Gerard sighs and stands up, wishing yet again that he had more coffee, or at least something to occupy his hands. Ray doesn't like them to smoke in the van, even though technically it belongs to the Ways, and Gerard's just about to hop back out and light up when the rest of the guys return to the van. 

"We should go. Sorry, Gerard," Matt says. 

Gerard agrees, a little sadly, and shoves his smokes back in his pocket. They clamber back into the van, and Gerard plops down in the back row as usual. With Mikey driving, he doesn't have anyone to keep him company. Ray and Matt are asleep in the row ahead of him, and hopefully Frank isn't awake either. He sighs and looks out the window. 

"You wanna come up here, Gee?" Mikey calls from the driver's seat. 

Gerard thinks about it for a moment, and then decides that, yes, he does. He clambers out of his seat and down the aisle as quietly as possible, but he’s pretty sure nothing could be louder than Matt’s snoring anyway. When he gets to the front row, he can’t help but glance at Frank, and is relieved to find that he’s sleeping peacefully, though he looks pale and a little feverish. Gerard considers covering Frank’s forehead with his palm to gauge his temperature but decides against it. Instead, he slides into the passenger seat beside Mikey and stares at the road ahead.

The freeway is grey and bleak and unremarkable. There aren’t any cars in sight other than one going to opposite direction, and it feels like they could drive forever without coming across civilization.

He can feel Mikey’s eyes on him, so he turns towards the driver’s seat and sees Mikey giving him a questioning look. Gerard shrugs. Mikey nods and looks back at the road. They drive in silence for another hour or two, the sun slowly making its way across the sky and the miles to Belleville ticking down. Behind him, Gerard hears someone mumble and shift in their sleep, and then a voice says, “Gee?”

Gerard turns around to see Frank looking at him and trying to sit up. “You need something, Frank?”

“‘M cold,” Frank says. He gives up trying to sit up and collapses onto his back.

“Lemme get you a blanket,” Gerard says as he gets out of his seat. He walks to the back of the van where they store anything they need when they’re on the road and picks out a blue fleece throw blanket. As he walks back towards the first row, he sees Frank trying to sit up again, peeking his eyes over the back of the seat. “Here.” Gerard offers Frank the blanket.

Frank hesitates but takes the fleece and wraps it around himself. “Thanks,” he says.

“No problem.” Gerard examines Frank for a moment. He looks worse than he did a few hours ago, his skin pasty and covered in a light sheen of sweat. His eyes are droopy and sunken, tired even though he’s slept nearly twelve hours. Gerard gives into his instincts and leans over Frank to feel his forehead. “Fuck, you’re burning up,” he says as he pulls away.

“‘S okay. I’ve had worse,” Frank assures him.

“Just a few more hours, Frank,” Mikey says from the driver’s seat.

Ray pops his head up over the back of Frank’s seat. “Yeah, buddy, just hang in there.”

Frank nods as his eyes slide closed again. Gerard wants to sit with him and make sure someone’s there if he wakes up, but he settles for sitting back down next to Mikey and looking at Frank every few seconds.

After a while, Mikey says, “You’re driving me fucking crazy, dude.”

Gerard looks at him, surprised. “What?”

Mikey doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “Just go sit with him for fuck’s sake.”

Gerard’s not sure what to make of that, but he’s not going to question it at the moment. He gets out of his seat and walks back over to Frank where he’s shivering in his sleep. “Frankie, hey,” Gerard says as he strokes the sweaty hair off Frank’s forehead. “Wake up, just for a second.”

Frank lets out a muffled groan and slits his eyes open. “Wha–?”

“Here, lift your head up.” Gerard coaxes him to sit up enough that Gerard can slide into the seat. Frank lays his head back down in Gerard’s lap and smiles contentedly.

“Well, ain’t that cute,” Matt says mockingly as he looks over the seat at them.

Gerard rolls his eyes and goes back to stroking Frank’s hair. He doesn’t want to be happy Frank is sick, but he’s thankful for the excuse to be close to him, to comfort him. He’s thankful that Frank asked for him and not anyone else.

They stop once more, and everyone gets out except Gerard and Frank. Gerard is happy to sit there with Frank still sleeping in his lap. Mikey switches with Ray for the last leg of the drive, and they pull away from the curb once more.

Even though Gerard had been cursing the long drive, it seems like all too soon Ray is pulling up outside the practice space. Frank stirs when the other guys get up and out of the van to unload, but Gerard doesn’t move just yet.

“Are we there?” Frank asks as he opens his eyes.

“Yeah,” Gerard says. “We’re home.”

Frank closes his eyes again and smiles. “Sweet.”

Gerard watches as Frank starts to slip back into unconsciousness, feeling guilty that he has to wake Frank again. “Come on, get up. I’ll drive you home.”

Frank groans. “Ugh, fine.”

They struggle out of the van, Frank gripping Gerard tightly. Gerard grabs Frank’s duffle and then dumps it and Frank in the backseat of Frank’s car after he’s given the keys. He shuts the door just as Frank is getting settled and jumps about ten feet in the air when he notices Mikey standing next to him.

“Mikey, are you fu–”

“What do you think you’re doing,” Mikey cuts in.

Gerard shrugs. “Taking him home. He can’t drive like this.”

Mikey glances through the window at Frank, who’s sprawled out in the backseat with his eyes firmly closed. “Fine. I’ll come pick you up in a while, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Gerard agrees.

Mikey heads back over to the van and Gerard shakes it off. He gets in the driver’s seat of Frank’s Corolla, adjusting the seat and mirrors as needed. “Hang tight, okay, Frank?”

Frank mumbles a reply, but it doesn’t sound like actual words. Gerard chuckles and turns the engine over. He lets Frank sleep as he drives across town to his apartment, throwing glances at the back seat in the rearview mirror every few seconds. When he pulls up out front, he cuts the engine and then hesitates for a few moments. Frank is sleeping peacefully with his arms wrapped tight around himself, and Gerard doesn’t want to wake him, but he can’t leave him here.

He gets out of the car and opens the back door. “Come on, wake up,” he coaxes Frank.

Frank whines and tries to push Gerard away. “Mom, I don’t wanna go to school,” he complains.

Gerard laughs. “I’m not your mother. Get the fuck up.” He finally gets Frank to open his eyes. “We’re home, Frank. Let me get you inside.”

Frank nods and lets Gerard tug him out of the car. They make it into the building and up to Frank’s apartment easily enough, but as soon as they get inside Frank insists on crashing on the couch instead of walking all the way back to the bedroom. Gerard relents, and gets him settled with a glass of water.

Frank seems to be drifting off again, so Gerard says, “Let me get you a blanket,” but he doesn’t think Frank hears. He walks through the apartment towards the bedroom but stops dead when he gets to the doorway.

The room is a mess. The bedding looks like it hasn’t been changed in ages. The floor is beyond cluttered, which usually Gerard wouldn’t mind, but the sheer amount of trash littering the room is completely out of character for Frank. Worst of all, every flat surface is covered with empty beer bottles, half-smoked bags of weed, and so many kinds of pills Gerard doesn’t even know what half of them are.

He stands there in shock, trying to comprehend what he’s seeing. He never noticed that Frank was a heavy user of anything, let alone stuff that Gerard might not even try. If Frank had used like this when they were together, he hid it well. If he hadn’t started until after they’d broken up… Gerard doesn’t want to think about that.

“Gee?” Frank calls from the living room, causing Gerard to startle.

“Be right there!” He quickly grabs a quilt off the foot of the bed that doesn’t look too dirty and brings it to the living room. Frank is still lying on the couch, eyes closed. Gerard would’ve thought he was asleep. “Here,” Gerard says as he spreads the quilt out on top of Frank.

“Hmm. Thanks, babe,” Frank says without opening his eyes.

Gerard freezes for a moment before shaking it off. Frank is out of his mind sick. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. When Frank seems settled, he considers leaving, but his mind is drawn back to the scene in the bedroom and he can’t bring himself to walk out the front door. In the bathroom, he finds a few orange pill bottles, and he takes them to the bedroom where he organizes the pills by type and puts them in different bottles so at least they’re separated. He doesn’t want to flush them, just in case Frank could be in danger of a life-threatening withdrawal without them, though he doesn’t think Frank would’ve been able to hide his usage on tour if he’d continued taking the pills once they hit the road. Even so, Gerard returns to the bathroom and puts the pill bottles in the cabinet over the sink.

The bathroom is a mess as well, towels all over the floor and grime on every surface. There’s not much he can do about it now, though, other than putting all the towels in a pile in the corner. Returning to the bedroom, Gerard seals the few bags of weed sitting around and places them together on one of the bedside tables. Then, he takes all of the empty beer bottles to the kitchen and puts them on the counter near the recycling bin. It takes a few trips, and by the end of it there’s quite a collection of bottles in the kitchen, but at least they’re not still cluttering up Frank’s bedroom.

He can hear Frank’s deep, even breaths as he sleeps soundly on the couch. He kind of wants to wait for Frank to wake up so they can talk about what’s going on with him, but that probably won’t be for hours, and he’s pretty sure Frank wouldn’t want to talk to him about it anyway.

He texts Mikey to come get him and gets an affirmative response almost immediately.

Deciding there’s not anything else he can do for Frank right now, he heads to the door, but then pauses. He walks back over to where Frank is laying on the couch. Slowly, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to Frank’s forehead. Frank doesn’t stir. He leaves Frank to sleep, shutting the door quietly on his way out.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried writing this. God I'm so sorry, guys. I'm a terrible person.

It’s not easier than it was before the tour. It’s not harder, either. In some ways, Gerard misses being on tour even though it was difficult being around Frank so much. The whole thing was difficult, performing, traveling, being hungry all the time, never having any money. But at least he had something to do, and people to do it with. Now that they’ve got some time off, it seems like no one really wants to hang out. There isn’t any bad blood in the group, besides whatever there is between Frank and Gerard, but everyone is busy seeing family and friends. Gerard’s already seen his family, and his only friends are in his band.

Ray comes over a lot, at least, but just as often, Mikey’s over at Ray’s. Gerard likes spending time with both of them when they’re at the house, but for some reason, even though he’s been invited a few times, he feels like he’d be overstepping if he followed them to Ray’s apartment. Still, it’s nice when they’re around and Gerard has people to hang out with.

But, sometimes, he just wants to be alone. There’s still something about his basement that feels undeniably empty with only him in it, especially now that the band equipment is long gone, but it’s still the place he feels most comfortable being creative. There’s a twinge in his gut when he realizes he and Frank never got the chance to make music here. He’d asked Frank for advice, sure, but they never sat down and worked through a song together or wrote lyrics or planned a live show. At least he and Frank will be making music with the band all the time now, and hopefully they will be for a long time to come.

The break seems to stretch on and on. They have a show coming up in a few weeks, but it’s only been a week and a half since the break started and not having a structured schedule has been hard for Gerard to adapt to. Before the tour, they were practicing all the time to prepare, and before that they were recording, and before that they were preparing to record, and before _that_ they were playing way more shows than they are now. But the album’s already been promoted in Jersey enough that Eyeball thinks it’ll do well. The tour helped put the word out up and down the coast, but who knows what’ll happen when it comes out, really. They still have practices before their shows during the break, and they have meetings with Geoff and the other producers to go over the final decisions for the record, but overall, there’s not much in the way of things that matter anymore.

Gerard wonders how Frank’s dealing with it. He thinks back to the pills and the weed and the booze and hopes that’s not how Frank is keeping himself occupied these days. More than once his fingers have itched to pick up the phone and ask how he’s doing, but he doesn’t know how that would go over, and he’s not sure how much he should get involved in Frank’s personal life given their history.

When he told Frank things could get messy, this was the sort of thing he meant, and it seems a little ridiculous that they broke up just for it to happen anyway.

He’s considered spilling to Mikey about what he saw in Frank’s bedroom, and it nearly came pouring out once when he was drunk, but he doesn’t think it’s his secret to tell. Plus, he’s not sure he wants to hear what Mikey has to say about it. Mikey seems worried that staying close to Frank will make it impossible for Gerard to move on, and Gerard knows Mikey hasn’t fully forgiven Frank for hurting him. He appreciates the sentiment, and he knows if anyone ever did something like that to Mikey it’d be a cold day in hell before he forgave that person, but it also makes him embarrassed to admit to Mikey how much he still cares about Frank. In general, he’s been thinking about Frank all too much, and he knows it.

Solving that problem turns out to be easy. He doesn’t see Frank, he doesn’t talk to Frank, and he definitely, definitely doesn’t draw Frank. Or his tattoos. Or his eyes. Or his naked form in the rising sunlight spilling in through the window, a sight he’s seen so many times he’s committed it to memory. He keeps his head down, he finishes commissions, he listens to music, maybe even writes some, he smokes and drinks, maybe a little too much, and he does not, he does _not_ think about Frank.

Mostly.

Things get worse as their first practice session of the break looms closer. Gerard finds it harder and harder not to think about Frank when he knows they’ll be seeing each other soon, and it makes him worry even more about how Frank’s spending his days and with whom. He has no idea how to navigate the weird position he’s put himself in; he should be able to look out for Frank because he’s a friend and bandmate, but he’s not sure he can do that without reopening wounds, or that Frank would even want him to now that they’ve broken up.

The day before their first practice, Gerard spends the day drawing. He finds that it helps to alternate creative outlets when he knows he’s going to be focusing on one for a while. So, he paints a little, plans out a few comics that will probably never get made, but mostly, he spends the day sketching. He fills five pages of his sketchbook in one sitting just with random drawings of men he doesn’t know. He draws legs and jawlines and biceps and eyes. Not whole bodies, so he can’t use them to start to build a character or even figure out who the subject is, just parts, here and there and never complete.

When he finishes the shading on a mouth quirked into a playful smile, he adds a nose and then a pair of eyes above it. It’s not the way he usually works, and it comes out a little wonky without starting with a head shape first, but the man’s face starts to come into view. Gerard adds a strong jawline, a small forehead, a cute haircut and perfect eyebrows. On impulse, he adds a rose ring, and then a lip ring, and then an eyebrow ring, and then the face finally, _finally_ makes sense.

He’s a fucking idiot.

Gerard quickly flips through all of his earlier sketches and finds them all the same: Frank’s legs, Frank’s eyes, Frank’s nose, Frank’s body. They’re missing the tattoos, but to Gerard, the drawings are still unmistakably Frank. He flips back to the most recent drawing of Frank’s face and stares at it for a while, feeling helpless. Obviously, Frank is on his mind and he isn’t going away. He sighs and closes his sketch book, deciding to give up on being creative, because that’s definitely not helping him forget things he’d rather not think about right now.

Glancing at the clock, he notices it’s almost midnight. He’s not sure where the day went, and realizes he’s barely eaten anything since a late lunch the day before. His stomach rumbles as if on cue, and Gerard decides to sneak up to the kitchen for a little snack. Or maybe a big snack. Or maybe a four-course meal, who knows.

The stairs creak as he makes his way up. Most likely everyone is still awake, except for Elena of course, but he still worries about the noise. In the kitchen, Mikey is texting while sipping a beer. He looks up and nods at Gerard when he hears footsteps, and then goes back to his phone.

Gerard roots around in the fridge, extracting a beer of his own, a few slices of ham, a block of cheddar, and a bottle of mayonnaise, intending to whip himself up a sandwich. The bread, when he finds it, is a little stale, and there’s no veggies, but that’s all right with him. He’s in the middle of spreading mayo on the first slice when Mikey says, “I talked to Frank,” and he nearly stabs himself in the hand.

Carefully, Gerard sets down the knife and turns to face Mikey. “Yeah?” he says, trying not to sound like he’s freaking out or imagining all the possible things his brother and his ex could have talked about.

“Yeah. He can’t make it to practice tomorrow. Family thing,” Mikey says without looking up from his phone.

“Oh.” _Family thing_. Gerard has no idea what that means, but he knows it’s not good. He’s not sure what’s worse, Frank lying to get out of practice and doing who knows what else, or Frank actually spending time with his parents. Gerard finishes making his sandwich and then heads back to the basement, munching on the bread and thinking.

A large part of him wants to call Frank immediately and ask what’s up, but he’s still not sure how much he should pry. If Frank is lying, maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to see Gerard, and calling might just make things worse. Then again, Frank might need someone to talk to, and Gerard wonders if he’s the only person who knows enough about Frank’s family situation to understand what’s going on.

He puts it off for a while, finishing his sandwich and beer and then digging out a bottle of whiskey from his stash. The first shot goes down easy with how distracted he is, and he only really notices he’s had more than one when he downs his fifth shot. Making an executive decision to not drink when he can’t keep track of what he’s putting in his body while still sober, he caps the bottle and puts it away. The room grows fuzzier as he moves to sit on his bed. The lights seem softer and the world a little more forgiving. It feels like maybe it’d be a good idea to call Frank after all.

He digs his phone out of his back pocket and flips it open. He hasn’t used it to talk to Frank since before they started recording, when he texted Frank early in the morning with the information about the studio. Since then, his phone has gone back to only being in use when he’s talking to his family. Occasionally Ray or Matt will text him, but they usually go through Mikey anyway. His phone’s barely seen the light of day since they got home from tour, and it gives him a pang of sadness as he remembers how much time he used to spend talking into it with Frank on the other end or smiling down at the screen as he read a joke Frank had texted him.

Once he’s drawn up Frank’s contact information, Gerard’s not so sure about this plan anymore. The phone screen glows up at him, inviting him to press the call button, and he does so before he can talk himself out of it. The phone rings as he brings it to his ear.

“Hullo?” Frank says as he answers the phone. His voice sounds garbled, like it’s stuck at the back of his throat.

“Frank. It’s me.” He realizes belatedly that maybe he should have said his name, or any information that would identify him, but Frank doesn’t seem to need it.

“Oh. Hey, Gee. Wha ‘sup?”

“Um.” He’s not exactly sure where he wants to go with this, so he just simply asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” Frank says, drawing out the word. “‘M good, ‘m good, man.”

“Frankie–” Gerard regrets drinking before getting into this. He closes his eyes as the whiskey hits his belly and the room starts to spin a little. “Frank, are you drunk?”

Frank laughs. “Are you?”

“A little,” Gerard admits. “Now tell me.”

Frank sighs, long and dramatic. “I told ya ‘m fine, Gee.”

Gerard really doesn’t believe him. “I’m coming over,” he says without thinking, and snaps his phone shut. It takes a second for him to realize what he’s just said, and then he’s sliding on his shoes and heading upstairs as fast as he can without getting too dizzy.

He’s about to walk right out the front door when he thinks that maybe that isn’t the best idea. He’s driven drunk before, and it’s never gotten him in too much trouble, but he might need help with Frank anyway.

“Mikey,” he says as he stumbles back into the kitchen. Mikey’s still there, eating a bowl of soup. He looks up at Gerard, confused. “Mikey, I need you to drive me to Frank’s.”

Mikey doesn’t say anything. He just stands up, puts his half-empty bowl of soup in the sink and heads out the door with Gerard trailing behind him. Gerard hands Mikey his keys when they’re halfway down the drive and Mikey nods.

Gerard directs Mikey to Frank’s apartment, though Mikey doesn’t ask for directions, and they arrive a few minutes later. They’re up to Frank’s door before Gerard even realizes he’s stumbled his way there. Mikey stands behind him while Gerard knocks. He holds his breath.

Slowly, the door creaks open. “What the fuck?” Frank croaks.

“Frankie, let us in,” Gerard says softly, coaxing.

Frank sighs. “I dunno… Why’re you here?”

“We just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. “I’m fuckin’ fine. Step the fuck off, Gerard,” Frank says, suddenly angry.

“No, Frank, please–” Gerard slaps a hand against the door when Frank tries to close it on them.

Mikey steps forward and pushes a little on the door as well. “Frank,” he says. It’s monotone, as usual, but Gerard knows that Mikey is using his Serious Voice.

Frank sighs again. “Guys…” He doesn’t close the door, but he doesn’t open it either.

After a pause, Gerard asks. “Why aren’t you gonna be at practice tomorrow?”

“Family thing,” Frank answers right away. Too quick for it to be the truth.

“Bullshit,” Mikey says.

Gerard presses a little harder on the door. Softly, he says, “Let us in, Frank.”

There’s another pause, and then Frank’s pulling the door open and turning around towards the living room. Gerard and Mikey follow, closing the door behind them.

The living room is trashed. It looks like the mess from Frank’s bedroom has expanded to the rest of the apartment, with empty bottles of booze and pills lying on every surface. Frank plops down on one of the sofas and stares at the wall while Mikey and Gerard take in their surroundings.

“What the fuck did you take, Frank?” Mikey asks with a hard edge to his voice as his eyes scan the room.

“Not the recommended dose, that’s for sure,” Frank jokes, but there’s no real humor in his tone, just regret.

This is bad. Gerard knows it’s bad, but he has no idea how to deal with it. This is the kind of thing that gets you kicked out of bands, skipping practice to get high instead, but at the same time he feels like a hypocrite. He’s cancelled a few practices because he couldn’t get it together well enough to climb out of the bottle, at least not on his own, so he doesn’t exactly have the right to be hard on Frank. Not to mention that kicking Frank out of the band is kind of the last thing he wants to do.

“Dude,” Mikey says, crossing the room and sitting down next to Frank. “Why didn’t you _say_ something?”

Gerard cautiously follows and sits down on Frank’s other side. He doesn’t sit as close to Frank as Mikey is, still worried that Frank doesn’t really want him around, especially when he’s fucked up. When they’re _both_ fucked up.

“I can’t mess this up,” Frank says sadly. He’s staring at the dirty floor, his hair falling in his eyes. Gerard wants to push it back, to wipe away the tears he knows are threatening to spill over. “But I’ve already fuckin’ messed it up, haven’t I?”

Mikey puts a comforting arm around Frank’s shoulder. “We can help you, if you need it. You just gotta ask, man.”

“And you didn’t mess it up,” Gerard says, even though he kind of did, but he knows Frank can make it right again.

Frank looks up at Gerard. His eyes are huge and wet, pupils dilated. Gerard worries Frank won’t even remember this conversation. “This is your fuckin’ fault, you know,” Frank says.

Mikey tightens his hold on Frank’s shoulder. “Frank–”

“No,” Frank cuts in. He’s still staring at Gerard, but now his eyes are hard and angry. “It’s your fault. Fucking making me choose. How the _fuck_ could you make me choose?”

Gerard’s mouth falls open in shock. For a moment, he doesn’t have any words, and then he starts, “Frank, I’m–”

“Don’t _fucking_ tell me you’re sorry!” Frank yells, jumping to his feet. He rounds on Gerard, facing him directly and pointing an accusing finger at his chest. “You fucked me up and you don’t even _care_! I can’t be around you, Gee.” He breathes hard for a moment, looking back and forth between the brothers. “Just get the fuck out of here.”

Frank stomps back towards his bedroom and out of sight, leaving Mikey and Gerard stunned on the couch.

After a long, silent moment, Mikey lets out a breath and says, “You should go after him.”

Gerard whips his head around to look at him. “Why the fuck would I do that? You heard him. He can’t be around me.”

Mikey rolls his eyes. Actually _rolls his eyes_ , and Gerard’s pretty sure this isn’t an eye-rolling kind of situation. “Yeah, that means it’s your job to fix it. I’ll wait in the car.”

Before Gerard can protest, Mikey is already up and out the front door, leaving Gerard alone in the messy living room. Gerard argues with himself for a few more minutes, debating whether to just book it out of the apartment or try his best to talk to Frank. In the end, he knows it wasn’t really a choice at all.

Slowly, he gets to his feet. He takes a deep, calming breath, and heads towards the bedroom. When he gets there, Frank is sitting on the bed with a cigarette in hand. Gerard’s pretty sure Frank isn’t supposed to smoke in his apartment, but it hasn’t stopped him thus far, and Gerard thinks Frank probably deserves a smoke anyway.

Frank glances up at Gerard when he comes into the room, and then darts his eyes back to the wall. He doesn’t say anything as Gerard lowers himself onto the bed next to Frank, but he also doesn’t tell him to leave, which Gerard takes as a good sign.

“I know you don’t want to hear it,” Gerard starts, hoping he’s doing something right, “but I _am_ sorry. I just don’t see–” He takes a deep breath, staring down at where his hands are knotted together in his lap. “I don’t see how it could work. It’s too complicated, relationships in the band. And we _need you_ , Frank.” He looks up at Frank as he says it, and see Frank staring back at him, the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “I know it’s a shitty choice I’m putting on you. Believe me I fucking _know_ it sucks. It’s hard for me, too. I can’t–” Gerard breaks off. He can’t stand looking at Frank, so he focuses on crossing his legs under him and staring at his shoes. “I can’t be around you either, really. It fucking hurts. But we’ve gotta suck it up. The band is going places, we can’t fuck that up–”

“Why are you so sure we’d do that?” Frank asks suddenly. Gerard meets his eye again and finds that Frank looks like he’s sobered up quite a bit since he and Mikey walked through the door. “Why do you think we’d be that stupid?” Frank continues.

Gerard’s not sure what to say at first. He kind of thought it was obvious. “Because we’d fight. And it’s not just about us anymore. We can’t do that to the guys, to the band. We have to take it seriously–”

“God,” Frank cuts in again. “What _is_ it with you thinking I can’t take things seriously? It’s like you think I’m a fucking time bomb. I _can_ be professional, you know. This band means fucking everything to me and you think I’d just throw that away?”

Gerard wasn’t just talking about Frank, he’d meant both of them, but he’s mad at the accusation and he doesn’t want to stop to explain. “You think _this_ is being professional?” he asks, his voice rising as he gestures to the mess all over the room. “Fucking getting high and dipping out of practices with shitty excuses you _know_ I can see right through?”

“Maybe that’s ‘cause I fucking wanted you to know I was lying, Gerard! You ever think of that?” Frank’s voice breaks off at the end, his anger turning to sadness. More softly, he says, “You ever think I fucking need you here?”

Gerard’s heart breaks, and he wonders how many times he can go through this before it stays broken. “I– _Frank._ I can’t be that for you now. And I thought you had… Kevin or whoever, anyway.”

Frank scoffs. “Fucking Kevin. Like that was ever gonna work out. Asshole fucked me and ran back to Jersey after you caught us. Scared him off, I guess.”

“Oh,” Gerard says. “Um. I’m sorry.”

Frank waves him off. “No. I wasn’t– That’s not what I needed.” Frank’s words lay heavy in the air for a long moment.

Finally, Gerard asks, “What did you need?”

Frank’s gaze turns dead serious. He looks at Gerard imploringly, and though his eyes are no longer glistening, Gerard can tell he means this. “You.”

“Frank, we–”

“Can’t,” Frank says, closing his eyes. His voice is tight and frustrated. “I know.”

Gerard grimaces. Frank keeps his eyes closed and leans his head back against the headboard. His cigarette is still burning in his hand, ash dropping onto the bed.

“Let me help you. Like you did for me,” Gerard says, and Frank opens his eyes again. “Let me get this shit out of here. Get you on track again.”

Frank sits up suddenly. “No. Fuck, _no_ , Gerard. I need it.”

“You don’t.”

“Oh, like you don’t need booze to get through the day, huh?” Frank says scathingly.

Gerard balks at him. “I never said I didn’t. But _you_ don’t need it. You never did.”

“You didn’t fucking know me before. You don’t know what I was like before you.”

“Yeah, I _do_ , Frank.” Gerard shifts a little closer, plucking the cigarette out of Frank’s hand and leaning across him to stub it out in the tray on the bedside table. He moves back to look Frank in the eye. “I know you. I do. Don’t lie to me and say you don’t think so too.”

Frank stares back silently, his mouth hardening into a thin line. “Fine,” he says. “Help me clean the place up, then.”

Gerard and Frank gather up all the empty bottles, placing them by the door to be taken out later. They clean up the trash and the spilled liquids after that, and the place starts looking normal again. After a while, all that’s left are the pills. There aren’t as many of them left as there were at the end of the tour, but there’s still a fair amount. The two of them scour the apartment, rounding them up in a few bags and then moving to the bathroom to flush them.

Frank hands Gerard his plastic bag of pills, and Gerard understands that Frank can’t do it himself. He’s just about to tip the first one over the toilet when–

“Wait,” Frank says, gripping Gerard’s arm. “We could– We could sell them, or something. That’s a lot of money.”

“Frank…” It’s tempting, but Gerard knows that dumping them is the only way Frank will be able to really let them go. “It has to be this way.”

Frank looks him in the eye, wearing a frightened expression. Everything that’s been keeping him together for the past month is about to literally go down the drain. Gerard get’s it, he does. But he knows he’s right about this.

“Okay,” Frank says, his hand loosening around Gerard’s arm. “Okay.”

Gerard nods and then looks back down at the toilet. He tips the first bag upside down, watching the pills fall and splash in the bowl. He flushes, watches the colors swirl and then disappear. The second bag has more pills, and Gerard dumps them too.

When all the pills are out of sight, Gerard throws away the bags and turns towards Frank. He’s wearing a dead, vacant expression while he stares at the toilet. _Mourning_ , Gerard thinks, and he gets that too.

“Come here,” Gerard says. Frank looks at him, confused. Gerard tentatively places a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Come here,” he says again.

Frank practically melts into him. Gerard brings his arms up around Frank’s back and rubs him comfortingly while Frank sobs into his shirt, gripping the back of it tightly. He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but when Frank pulls back his eyes are red and puffy, but the tears are gone. All cried out.

Gerard nearly starts crying himself just looking at him, but he resolves to stay strong, knowing Frank doesn’t need pity right now.

“Stay with me,” Frank says, pleading. “Stay. I need– I can’t be alone. Please.”

Gerard thinks about it for maybe half a second before he says, “Yeah. Of course.”

“Thank you,” Frank says and finally lets go. “I’m gonna… I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“I’ll be in there in a minute,” Gerard says to Frank’s back as he leaves the bathroom. Gerard shuts the door behind him and digs out his cellphone, pressing “call” on Mikey’s number.

“Everything okay up there?” Mikey asks when he picks up.

“Yeah. Well, not okay, but better.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m staying. Sorry for making you wait up.”

Mikey pauses. “What’s going on, Gee?”

“Nothing’s going on. He just needs me here. Everything’s fine, I promise.” He’s not sure if he’s lying or not, but he doesn’t like lying to Mikey and this doesn’t feel like that.

“Okay. Call me tomorrow.”

“I will, Mikes. Thanks”

“Yeah.” Mikey hangs up.

Gerard exhales and puts his phone away. He washes his hands in the sink for no other reason than he feels like he needs a clean start. The cold water pours over his hands, bringing him back to himself.

He’s going to spend the night with Frank. Frank is vulnerable, emotional. Gerard cannot let anything happen, even if Frank initiates it. _Especially_ if Frank initiates it. And he knows nothing will, because taking advantage of Frank right now would make Gerard the kind of guy who doesn’t deserve him. And Gerard would be lying if he said he doesn’t do everything to be good enough for Frank.


	27. Chapter 27

In the morning, Gerard rolls over to find Frank still sleeping peacefully beside him. He smiles, momentarily forgetting that this is not like the many other times they’ve woken up together in Frank’s bed. Things are different now. But he lets himself pretend for just a few more minutes.

It doesn’t last, though. It never does.

Frank stirs, and the crease between his eyes slowly deepens. He cracks an eye open, catching Gerard’s gaze, and the smile he gives would make Gerard weak at the knees if he wasn’t laying down.

Realizing that their faces are far too close, Gerard clears his throat awkwardly and shifts away from Frank. He kept his promise to himself, he didn’t even touch Frank while they laid in bed together the night before. They just talked. And soon, Frank was dead to the world anyway, and then Gerard was too.

Now, though, they’re both clear-headed, which means that if anything were to happen they wouldn’t be able to blame it on being intoxicated. Realizing this, Gerard turns his back to Frank and reaches out for his phone. He only has one missed text, sent from Mikey sometime last night. All it says is “don’t be stupid.” Gerard smiles and snaps his phone shut. He’ll let Mikey know about his lack of stupidity later.

“I’d ask you to make me breakfast,” Frank says, startling Gerard as he turns back around, “but I feel like that wouldn’t end well.”

Gerard laughs. Frank grins back, the tightness in his shoulders relaxing. “You’re probably right,” Gerard says. He’s never even attempted to make food for the two of them, and Frank probably picked up on Gerard’s shitty cooking skills from his family members making fun of him for it all the time.

“No prob,” Frank says. “There’s no food in the kitchen anyway.”

Gerard nods, suddenly remembering the state of Frank’s apartment before their deep cleaning session yesterday. “Let’s go somewhere, then,” he says, trying to lighten the mood again. “Somewhere special. You pick.”

Frank flashes him another smile. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Gerard leaves the bedroom while Frank pulls on a fresh set of clothes. Frank offers him a clean shirt to change into, but it’s definitely not the first time Gerard’s worn the same outfit two days in a row, so he turns it down. They take the empty liquor bottles out as they leave Frank’s apartment, decidedly not talking about how many there are or what was in them.

In Frank’s car, Gerard stares straight ahead while Frank pops in a Misfits CD and drums on the steering wheel. Gerard tries not to feel like this is just like how things used to be, that they’re going out somewhere, that this is a _date_ , but it’s hard. What’s scaring him the most is how right it feels, like coming home after a long time away.

Frank pulls up outside an old, grimy-looking Waffle House and smiles big at Gerard.

“Why did you think I wouldn’t wanna come here?” Gerard asks, returning the smile.

“Because I love pancakes, and you’re paying.” Frank flashes Gerard a sly look and is up and out of the car before Gerard can object.

Gerard stumbles out and follows Frank inside, grumbling about greedy assholes who take advantage of nice people. Frank is chatting with the hostess when Gerard finds him. She smiles at Gerard and then seats them at a booth against the window, leaving them with menus and another smile. Outside, the late morning light is shining, reflecting off the windows of the run-down buildings across the street. A bird flies into view before flitting away again, making Gerard think of the swallows on Frank’s hips. He gulps, looking down at the table, trying not to think about how he’ll never get to touch them again.

“You gonna get anything?” Frank asks him tentatively. Gerard looks up and sees Frank peeking out over his menu.

“Oh,” Gerard says, shaking off his thoughts. “Yeah.” He picks up his menu and scans it, but he can’t take any of it in. He sighs and puts the menu down.

Frank looks like he’s about to speak again, but before he can, their waiter arrives.

“What’re we havin’?” he asks, barely glancing at either of them.

“Chocolate chip waffles, please,” Frank says happily, pushing his menu to the edge of the table.

“I’ll have the same,” Gerard mumbles. It doesn’t sound all that appetizing to him, but he figures it’d be weirder if he didn’t order anything at all.

The waiter looks up from his notepad for a split second, saying, “Comin’ right up,” before he’s gone again.

Gerard exhales silently and looks out the window again. He’s starting to feel like this was a bad idea, going out to breakfast with Frank. His brain keeps repeating _date_ over and over again no matter how hard he tries to get it to shut up, and he’s half hoping Frank isn’t thinking the same thing, but the other half of him is giddy with the thought Frank just might be feeling the same way.

“We never came here,” Frank says, sounding distant. Gerard looks at him, but finds Frank looking out the window too. “This is one of my favorite places, but I never brought you here. Not sure why.”

“Hmm,” Gerard says, not sure what to say. Frank looks tired, like he’s been slowly deflating since they got out of the car, all the energy seeping out of him. After a pause, Gerard says, “Maybe you were saving it.”

Frank looks at him then, surprised. “Yeah. For this, I guess.”

Gerard nods, not really knowing how to interpret that. They’re silent for another few minutes, awkwardly playing with the silverware and napkins and avoiding each other’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Frank says finally, and their eyes meet again. “For helping me out, I mean.” He doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed, and Gerard envies him for it.

“No problem.” The moment feels far too intimate, Frank’s eyes burning into his. He coughs, and then, like an asshole, says, “Gotta have our rhythm guitarist, right?” He regrets it as soon as its out of his mouth, but Frank doesn’t seem all that offended.

“Yeah, sorry about trying to get out of going to practice. That was stupid of me.” Frank leans in a little. “It won’t happen again, Gee.”

“I know, Frank. I trust you.” He realizes he’s moved forward as well, and their hands are almost touching with how close they are on the table. There’s a tense moment where Gerard knows they’re both conscious of it, and they look at each other like they’re deer caught in the other’s headlights. Gerard’s about to say something, anything, to break the silence, and then–

“Two chocolate chip pancakes.” The waiter places the plates down in front of Frank and Gerard as they pull apart far too fast to be casual. Gerard stares down at his food dejectedly. “Here’s your syrup. Lemme know if you need anything,” the waiter says, and then he’s gone.

They eat in silence, Gerard barely picking at his food while Frank wolfs his down. Gerard wonders how much he was eating during those weeks alone in his apartment, knowing it can’t have been much. When Frank polishes off his food, Gerard takes pity on him and pushes his own plate across the table. Frank looks up at him questioningly, and Gerard nods. Frank smiles and pulls the plate towards him, devouring Gerard’s pancakes just as fast as he’d eaten his own.

When both plates are empty, Frank sits back and rubs his belly with a contented smile on his face. The waiter comes by and silently places the check on the table. Frank actually looks like he’s about to reach for it, but Gerard grabs it first. He digs a twenty out of his wallet and places it on the edge of the table, smiling a little at Frank who smiles back.

“Thanks,” Frank says again, breaking the silence.

“Don’t mention it.” It’s at this point that Gerard knows it would be normal for them to get up and leave, but he finds himself wanting to stay. There’s something about the whole thing that feels so comfortable, so normal in a way that Gerard knows he won’t feel again for a long time once he and Frank walk out the restaurant doors. Then again, he’s not sure how long he and Frank should stay here on their date-that’s-not-a-date, smiling at each other and alternating between casual and serious conversations. It’s a little exhausting to keep up with, if Gerard’s being honest.

After a few minutes, Frank takes his hand off his stomach and sits up. “Ready to go?” he asks, and Gerard nods even though he really, really isn’t.

Frank waves to the hostess as they leave, and she shoots him a knowing smile. Gerard thinks back to what Frank said about this being one of his favorite places and wonders just how often he comes here.

In the car, they sit for a moment with the engine running. Gerard isn’t sure if Frank wants to go straight home, he knows he doesn’t want them to part company just yet. He’d rather pretend he and Frank have all the time in the world before they have to go back to living their lives apart from one another.

“Wanna go to the graveyard?” Frank asks.

Gerard nods, realizing that sounds kind of perfect, and Frank peels away from the curb.

It’s a little weird going to Holy Cross during the day, as Gerard’s only been here a handful of times, and all of them were at night. Not to mention the last time he was here was with Frank, right after Pencey broke up. Not exactly the happiest memories for Frank to relive, or Gerard for that matter. But this is where Frank wants to go, and Gerard is happy just to be along for the ride.

Walking into the cemetery feels a little bit like a dream. The air is cool, especially for summer, and it’s nice. There are people here, paying their respects, which Gerard never knows how to feel about. On the one hand, watching someone mourn a person you’ve never met feels like an invasion of privacy, but at the same time he appreciates seeing people be so unapologetically open about their pain.

They walk through the tombstones for a while, not speaking. Gerard reads the names as they go, committing some to memory just because it’s something to do. He’s always liked picking out the most interesting ones and building characters around them, but he doesn’t much have the energy for story telling now. Hasn’t had it since the band started, really. He thinks that’s maybe something he should focus on, something he should change. The songs he writes are about people, characters, but only a few of them have names. Maybe he should build them more, flesh them out. Make them real.

Frank stops in front of a headstone and Gerard pauses beside him. Looking at Frank reminds Gerard why it can be a bad idea to make characters a little _too_ real, and how that really bit him in the ass when he realized they’ll have to play Monroeville live when the album comes out, no matter how much he’s avoided doing that up to now.

The headstone they’ve paused at is for Marcus Freedman, 1835-1899. Beloved father, brother, and husband. Always missed. Gerard wonders if Marcus Freedman means anything to Frank, or if it was just random that they stopped here. Frank doesn’t seem like he’s open to answering any questions, staring at the tombstone and looking pensive, so Gerard doesn’t ask any.

“How are we gonna do this, Gee?” Frank asks suddenly. His voice is quiet, reserved. Gerard wonders how long he’s been thinking about this question before asking it.

“The band, you mean?”

“Yeah. With us… the way we are.” Frank tears his eyes away from the headstone to look at Gerard. “We’re not really coping, if you haven’t noticed.”

Gerard wants to take offense, tell Frank to speak for himself, but he’s right, he’s _not_ coping, and they both know Frank isn’t either. He looks down at the grass at his feet, noticing a bouquet of fresh flowers at the base of Marcus’s grave. Odd, for someone who died so long ago. Someone must still be thinking of him.

“I miss you,” Gerard says, and he knows that’s not an answer in the slightest, but it’s the truth.

“I know,” Frank says. “I miss you too.”

Gerard breathes in and out a few times before meeting Frank’s eye. “How about–” he breaks off, not sure how he wants to phrase this. “How about if we’re freaking out, and you’re about to take who knows what or I’m maybe feeling like tying myself a noose, we… talk to each other?”

Frank actually smiles at that. “You’d want me to call you?”

“Yeah, Frankie. Of course I would.”

“Okay, I can do that.” Frank nods, like he’s trying to convince himself, and then knocks Gerard with his shoulder. “You too, man. Call me. We’ll talk through it.”

“Okay,” Gerard agrees.

They stand there for a few more minutes, and then Frank says, “Come on.” He turns back towards the cemetery entrance and Gerard follows. “Let’s go home.”

~

Frank agrees to meet them all at the practice space in a few hours as planned. He’s still exhausted and strung out from everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, but Gerard isn’t the least bit surprised when Frank keeps his word. Gerard knows he meant it.

The practice goes okay. Better than Gerard would’ve expected, at least. They get a fair bit of work done and it doesn’t feel awkward or tense or weird. He’s not worried about making eye contact with Frank, not now that they’ve talked things out a little. There’s more to be said, he knows that, and he also knows that this isn’t the end of trouble for the band or between him and Frank, but for now, he thinks that maybe things will be okay.

Once they pound out the specifics of their set for the next show and go over all the rough parts, there’s not much left to do. They all have new material they’ve been itching to start, but after they got back from tour they agreed not to start in on it until after the album release. Before that, they just have to make sure their current catalog stays practiced and polished and that the two shows before the release go according to plan.

Despite the ease of the practice session, Gerard is more than happy to escape back to the silence and solitude of his basement at the earliest opportunity. The last day has been a bit of a wild ride, and his exhaustion finally takes over. He collapses onto his bed and falls asleep before midnight for the first time in years.

~

Even after all the shows and the fucking _tour_ for God’s sake, performing doesn’t get any easier. Before their show, Gerard freaks out like he always does, takes forever like he always does, gets drunk like he always does, and then ends up wondering what he was so worried about as soon as he realizes how into it the crowd is. The last part doesn’t _always_ happen but has become much more regular with experience.

They’re opening, which Gerard is thankful for, even though their following in Jersey is certainly bigger than in any of the towns they played on tour. But still, it’s nice to not be the center of attention, and to get their feet back under themselves for their first show at home. The next show will be a headliner, though, and their album release will be their biggest show yet. Gerard’s trying not think about it.

His vision is a little too bleary to see Frank thrashing around, which he’s thankful for, too. Being on good terms with Frank doesn’t mean it’ll make him want to jump his bones any less. It might make it worse, actually, he’s not sure. In any case, he focuses his eyes as much he can on the audience in front of them and tries to form a connection with them through the fuzziness in his head. It mostly works, at least until he feels someone pressed up alone his side, breathing on his neck.

Glancing to his right, Gerard sees that it’s not just anyone, it’s _Frank_ all up on him, looking out of his mind. He’s drenched in sweat, still playing his guitar while he leans on Gerard, eyes closed and mouth hanging open. When Gerard turns his head, their mouths almost touch.

For a moment, Gerard is lost in a daze. He somehow manages to keep singing, getting most of the words right, he’s pretty sure, but he can’t take his eyes off Frank. More specifically, he can’t take his eyes off Frank’s _mouth_. This is the closest to kissing they’ve been in more than a month, and Gerard is dying to lean in just the extra few inches and fit their mouths together, crowd be damned.

Just as Gerard is thinking he might have to seriously reconsider this whole break up thing, Frank opens his eyes. His mouth shifts into a shit-eating grin, pure giddy happiness that Gerard hasn’t seen in far too long, and then he’s gone. He spins away from Gerard as quickly as he came, and suddenly he’s back across the stage playing to the crowd with all his heart. Despite himself, Gerard smiles, feeling elated, and throws himself back into the song. For the remainder of the performance he can’t help but feel like this is the best show they’ve ever done. It’s over too quickly, and it’s only one of a handful of times Gerard has been truly sad to leave the stage.

As he and Mikey are packing up Gerard’s hatchback, he sees Frank driving away, and on a whim, he waves. Frank smiles and waves back before driving out of sight. When Mikey catches Gerard’s eye he pointedly raises an eyebrow, but Gerard just shrugs, feeling too good to be guilty, and Mikey lets it go.

Gerard is busy staring out the window when Mikey decides he has not, in fact, let it go.

“You’re being careful, right?” It’s less a question and more a statement, which Gerard confirms when he looks over at Mikey and finds him staring straight ahead with his jaw set.

“Yeah,” Gerard says simply.

Mikey changes lanes, and Gerard thinks he’s done talking, but then he says, “I just don’t want you guys making decisions without talking first.”

Gerard’s not sure what to say to that, so he stays quiet in hopes that Mikey will explain.

“If you want to be together then… be together,” Mikey says, and Gerard’s mouth drops open. Mikey doesn’t even glance his way. “But don’t make it an accident. Work it out.”

“We’re not–” Gerard doesn’t know how to phrase what he needs to say. “We can’t do that, Mikey. You know we can’t.”

Mikey does look at him then, his eyebrows drawn together. “Do I?” He looks back to the road, his face morphing back so that it betrays no emotion. “Do you?” He says quietly.

Gerard turns back to the window and watches Jersey pass him by. He doesn’t like the way Mikey’s words unsettle him. He’s been so set in coming to terms with the fact that he and Frank can’t be together that he hadn’t even let himself consider that they could try to make it work. It couldn’t work. It _can’t_ , not matter how badly they want it to. Gerard knows it, and Frank knows it too.

The things is, Gerard has come to accept that Mikey is always right. _Always_. And he’s planted a seed that Gerard knows he won’t be able to get rid of until he either lets it blossom or resolves to kill it.

They pull up to the house and unpack the car, which doesn’t have much now that they can store things at the practice space. Mikey grabs his bass and Gerard takes the remaining t-shirts. Just as Gerard’s about to head down to the basement, Mikey says, “Just think about it, okay?”

Gerard looks over his shoulder at Mikey, who’s standing awkwardly in the doorway between the living room and the hallway. He looks sincere, like he does when he’s really considered what he’s saying. Gerard nods.

“Goodnight, Gee.”

“‘Night, Mikes,” Gerard says, but Mikey is already gone.

~  
In the wake of Mikey’s advice, Gerard decides that the best thing he can do is avoid Frank like the plague. Thinking about what it means for Mikey to say that maybe, just maybe he and Frank could be together and have the band, too, is giving Gerard too much hope. He can’t let his resolve crack now that he’s spent so long without Frank. It would mean that he was stupid, making them choose, and he caused them all this pain for nothing. It would mean regretting everything that happened with Gabe, even though he learned about himself, and it would probably mean Frank regretting his hookups, which Gerard doesn’t want him to do no matter how much they hurt to witness (literally).

So, Gerard goes back to trying his best to not think about Frank while he spends his time not talking to Frank or drawing Frank or writing songs about Frank. Which also means that it doesn’t quite work. He manages not to call or text him, at least, and he doesn’t get anything in return. But his new line of thinking about their relationship has made him itch to draw Frank like he never has before. He finds himself writing lyrics about Frank too, happier songs that have to do with dying for one another rather than at the hand of each other. He’s not satisfied with letting himself go down this road, but it’s at least a positive change from the dark thoughts he’d been having since he and Frank broke up.

Mikey seems to notice his more cheerful attitude too, giving him knowing looks whenever he comes to hang out rather than wasting away in his basement or paints something with color for once. It’s a little annoying, but if it means Mikey’s proud of him, then he can deal.

Ray keeps comes over a lot, which Gerard likes. They were always friends, but Gerard appreciates the opportunity to rekindle their friendship, especially with Mikey as a common connection so it’s not awkward like it often is when Gerard’s trying to get to know someone better. Besides, he needs as many friends as he can get these days with the hole that breaking up with Frank has left in his social life.

A few days after the show, Ray stays the night at the Way house and the three of them stay up late having what Gerard can only describe as a slumber party. They hunker down in the living room with video games, snacks, shitty horror movies, and gossip. They build a fucking _blanket fort_ for fuck’s sake. The only difference from the last time Gerard did this, about ten years ago, is he’s more than a little drunk and maybe a little bit stoned too. They smoked on the back porch like teenagers so Donna wouldn’t smell it and go ballistic on their asses. The woman is like a bloodhound, but only with weed, and even though she’s been asleep for hours they know she’d be downstairs yelling at them in a second if they smoked in the house.

Now, they’re all laying on the floor, fighting fits of giggles over some joke that was probably nowhere near as funny as they’re making it seem. Gerard is holding his belly and trying to fight through the pain in his lungs from laughing so hard. His eyes are wet, and when he opens them, he can see Mikey’s are too. Ray isn’t even really laughing anymore, he’s just taking in big gulping breaths and trying to get ahold of himself.

A few minutes later, after about three more rounds of giggles, they finally calm the fuck down enough to speak again.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Gerard says eloquently.

Mikey almost looks like he’s going to start laughing again at that, but he reins it in. “God, we’re fucking ridiculous.”

Ray lays down beside Gerard on one of the pillows they’ve placed under their blanket fort. Gerard stares up at the blue quilt hung over their heads, held up by the back of the couch and a few dining room chairs. The soft glow of the TV shines through, but not enough to do more than cast a calming, blue light on them. He knows it’s probably mostly the fault of the weed and booze, but he feels calm, content, peaceful. It’s the best night he’s had since the last time he and Frank slept in the same bed, and he didn’t know how much he was craving some good, quality time with people he loves.

“You guys are amazing,” Ray says suddenly. He sounds wistful, reverent.

Mikey snorts. “Yeah, buncha idiots nearly dying on our living room floor. From fucking _laughing_.”

Ray giggles, and Gerard worries he’s about to bring on another round, but he manages to stave it off again. “No, I mean it. You guys are fuckin’ awesome. I love hanging out with you. Both of you.”

Gerard knows that last bit was for him, that Ray wants to make sure he knows their friendship matters. Gerard wants to return the sentiment, but he has no idea how.

“Yeah, yeah, you big sap,” Mikey says with a huge grin plastered on his face. “We all know it’s just ‘cause of the free food and beer.”

Gerard tilts his head to look at Ray, who’s wearing a pensive expression. “Ya know,” Ray says, and then smiles, “you’re right.”

“Fucker!” Mikey lobs a pillow at Ray, who brings his arms up just in time to block it, and then bursts out laughing all over again. That’s get Mikey and Gerard started, and before they know it, they’re back where they were ten minutes ago: holding their bellies and trying not to suffocate to death.

But, even though he’s in massive amounts of pain at the moment, Gerard wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Well. Almost anything.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I KNOW that this is not how album planning works but. It's a story okay? Let's just pretend that in this universe albums don't need titles until like right before the release.
> 
> Btw chapter 30 is a short epilogue so I'm going to post it at the same time as chapter 29, hopefully before this coming weekend is over.

The next practice creeps up on him, somehow, and now they’re headed into the practice space with two more sessions tentatively scheduled, just in case they need more time to get their shit together. Gerard really hopes they don’t.

He knows they’re all itching to try out new material, but they resolve to stick to the plan and only practice what they’ve already got. There’s still a few weeks left until the record release show and waiting that long to try out new stuff will feel like dying, but they’ve just got to get through it. They’re not about to risk fucking up a new song (or an old one, if they spend too much time practicing new material) in front of an audience when they’re trying to sell as many records as possible just so they can afford to eat. No way.

And it’s not as if the old stuff has gotten boring. Far from it. Gerard still loves every second of the songs they have; they remind him of when they were just starting out, especially Skylines and Turnstiles, of course. He’s in a much different place from where he was when he wrote most of the songs, but he can still remember what he felt like when he wrote them, what his life was like at that moment, and it makes him a little nostalgic even though most of those times were pretty bad. It’s with that thought he realizes that, until now, he’s only ever written music when he’s been in a bad place. It just seemed to work for him that way; the words he wanted came to him most easily when he was feeling a lot of shit at once. But recently, he’s been able to channel a more positive energy. Not _happy_ energy exactly, but there’s something in his new lyrics that keeps coming up, something about surviving rather than dying. He’s not sure where the new direction will take them, but he’s excited for it.

In the meantime, he returns to the feelings he’d had in the songs they put on the album. The hardest, of course, is Monroeville, and he can’t bear to look at Frank when they practice it. They haven’t put it on the setlist for any shows so far, but he knows they’re expected to play through the whole album for the record release party, which means airing out all the darkest parts of himself for the world to see. He’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

“Hey, Frankie, what do you think of this?” Ray asks while they’re taking a short break. Gerard watches as Ray plays something for Frank, who nods encouragingly in return. It wasn’t meant for him to hear, not yet at least, but Gerard can’t help but decide that he likes it. He likes everything Ray writes.

“That’s fucking awesome, man,” Frank says when Ray stops playing. “Work that in somewhere. That’s totally amazing.”

Ray beams. “Thanks, dude.”

It’s one of those moments where Gerard knows they made the right choice. The band is miles ahead of where they were before Frank joined, and now they have the freedom to do things like that: put a random guitar part in and not lose something integral to the song, making their sound better overall. It _was_ the right choice, Gerard knows that, he just wishes it hadn’t come at such a high price.

The rest of practice goes smoothly. Ray works the part into Headfirst for Halos and they practice it enough times that Gerard isn’t at all worried about them playing the new version live, so they decide to cancel their following two practices. It’s a nice compromise between sticking to their current material and trying out new stuff, and Gerard can tell that morale is high as they leave the practice space.

Frank waves at them all as they leave, and Gerard smiles and waves back. It still hurts, it hurts a damn lot, but Gerard is happy that he still gets to have Frank in his life, even if it means always keeping him out of arm’s reach.

“You’re smiling,” Mikey says when they’re halfway home.

Gerard looks over at him in the passenger seat confusedly. “What?”

“You’re smiling,” Mikey repeats. “Why are you smiling?”

“What, I can’t smile now?” Gerard teases, grinning wider.

Mikey smacks him on the shoulder. “Shut up. It’s just… weird.”

“Wow. How supportive of you. Thank God I have you to keep me going,” Gerard deadpans.

There’s a lull where neither of them say anything, and then Mikey says in a smaller voice, “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

The smile falls off Gerard’s face a little, but not completely. “Me too,” he says.

~  
A few days later, they’re playing another show. It’s at a small club in north Jersey, smaller than some of the places they’ve played recently, but tonight, it’s all theirs. Gerard takes the time to introduce himself to the opening band, a group of college students who started playing together in high school. Their body language suggests they think they’re too good for this scene, but when Gerard talks to them, they loosen up and mention that they’re all fans of My Chem. It feels a little weird that their opener has been around longer than them, but Gerard’s starting to understand what it means for a band to “grow up,” and he knows My Chem has done a little more of that than these kids have.

Still, he appreciates their praise and tells them he’s looking forward to watching them perform. He wishes them luck as they head off for their soundcheck and then makes his way to the empty bar.

“On the house,” the bartender tells him as she slides a beer bottle towards him.

“Thanks,” he says and makes a mental note to leave her a tip. He sips his beer as he leans against the bar on his elbows, trying to decide if he wants to sit down or go find another spot to wait for soundcheck. He’s just plopped his ass onto one of the barstools when someone takes the seat on his right.

“What he’s having,” Frank says, and the bartender gives him a beer with a wink, probably knowing that Frank is underage. “Thanks.”

Frank doesn’t look at him while he drinks, but Gerard has been watching him since he sat down, waiting for him explain why they’re alone together for the first time since they went out to breakfast weeks ago. Gerard hasn’t been avoiding Frank as intensely as before, and he knows Frank hasn’t been avoiding him either, but he figures they both knew they wouldn’t want any awkward situations and steered clear of each other while others weren’t around. Until now, apparently.

Finally, Frank says, “You ready?” with a quick glance in Gerard’s direction before his eyes dart back down to the cracked wood of the bar.

“For what?” Gerard asks.

Frank shrugs, not meeting Gerard’s eye. “Tonight, then the album release, tour after that… All of it.”

Gerard chuckles. “Not in the fucking slightest.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Frank says, cracking a smile at him.

On stage, the support band starts their soundcheck and the room fills with noise. Gerard notices the bartender move to the far end of the bar to do some restocking, and he feels the air between him and Frank shift. They could say anything to each other right now, and no one would know. It would look like they’re just having a normal conversation and they could easily pass it off as such, no matter what’s said. Gerard doesn’t want to freak out, but he’s starting to a little bit, so he takes another gulp of beer and doesn’t look in Frank’s direction.

“Can I ask you something?” Frank says tentatively. Gerard’s not looking at him, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Frank staring steadfastly down at the bar.

Gerard swallows hard. “Sure.”

Frank is silent for a moment, considering, and then he says, “You and Gabe. Did you…?”

Gerard whips his head around to look at Frank, who’s staring back now. “No. We– I didn’t want to. He wasn’t right. For me.”

Frank nods but doesn’t say anything self and goes back to looking at nothing in particular. After a long pause, he says, “You will. Find someone who’s right, I mean.”

For some reason, that frustrates Gerard. “But I already _did_ ,” he says. It’s out of his mouth before he knows it, and Frank looks as surprised as he feels. To cover, he quickly changes the subject to something he instantly regrets asking about. “Have you? Found someone?”

Frank’s eyebrows draw together. “No. Not– There was Kevin” – Gerard winces at the name – “but that wasn’t anything, really, even before he ditched me. And since then… no.” They’re silent for another long moment. And then, Frank says so quietly Gerard almost can’t make it out over the sound of the band onstage, “You were right for me too.”

Gerard has no idea what to say to that, and he frantically searches for a response for a few moments before the room goes dead silent and then Ray is calling them over for their soundcheck. Gerard leaves his empty beer bottle on the bar and doesn’t look back as he makes his way over to the stage, though he can hear Frank’s heavy footsteps following behind him.

~

It seems that as soon as Gerard thought maybe he and Frank didn’t have to avoid being alone together anymore, he picks up the practice again. After soundcheck, he bolts back to the bar, grabs another free beer quick and goes outside to smoke, making sure to plant himself far away from the door so that anyone who comes out can turn right back around when they see him without him even noticing. Or, at least, he can pretend he didn’t notice.

No one comes out, though, and Gerard chain-smokes through four cigarettes before giving up and going back inside. Everyone is busy either fixing gear or practicing, so Frank is nowhere in sight. Gerard passes the time by sitting in the corner and drawing on bar napkins, zombies and vampires and witches, the usual.

“Hey, Picasso. Opening band’s about to come on,” Matt says with a friendly grin.

Gerard looks around to find that the room has filled with people; the doors must have opened without him even noticing. He nods, tucking his current work in progress and pen into his back pocket, and Matt helps him to his feet. A few minutes later the lights go down and the opening band takes the stage. They introduce themselves as Smalltalk and jump right into a song that’s too poppy for Gerard’s taste, but sounds put-together and polished. The set continues in much the same way, with music Gerard appreciates but wouldn’t seek out on his own. The crowd looks to be having a good time, though, and he likes that they’re getting pumped up by another band before seeing My Chem rather than the other way around.

After Smalltalk says their goodbyes, Gerard procrastinates heading backstage for as long as possible, but eventually he has no excuse but to go join his band before they go on. When he gets there, nearly everything is ready and all they have to do is wait a few more minutes until their last show as an album-less band. Gerard thinks about the merch booth, manned by someone they don’t even know, and that no one can even buy their demo anymore because they ran out of tapes months ago. It’s flattering being the kind of band everyone wants to listen to, but no one can get ahold of, and Gerard hopes that when the album comes out people will still like them just as much.

Without meaning to, Gerard glances at Frank about every two seconds for the remaining ten minutes before they go on. He doesn’t see Frank look his way once, but he’s perfectly okay with that if it means Frank doesn’t notice him being a total creep. He just can’t help it. He can’t get what Frank said out of his head, that he knows Gerard was right for him, let alone the fact that Gerard confessed the same about Frank.

In the past, the thought would’ve made him panic. And, if he’s being honest with himself, he might be panicking a little bit, but mostly he just feels warm. The idea that Frank wants him, _still_ wants him after everything, is full of so many possibilities that Gerard feels hopeful about the future for the first time in months. It’s a little silly, because in that time, My Chem has taken off and he’s had so much to look forward to, but it’s all felt a little hallow without Frank to share it with. At least not the way he wants to. Knowing that Frank might feel the exact same way is something Gerard is going to have to work very, very hard to keep to himself. They’ve come this far, they can’t jeopardize what the band has because they still have feelings for each other. And that’s when it all comes crashing back down, and Gerard remembers they _can’t_ be together. After so long apart, Gerard would’ve thought the hurt would fade, but it hasn’t. He’s worried it never will.

Then again, maybe he doesn’t want it to. Because now, the hurt is all he has left.

~

After the second show of the break, Gerard expected things to be calm for the next few weeks before the album release, but no such luck. He and Geoff have been putting off their conversations about the finer points of the album for weeks now, and it’s finally caught up to them. Officially, the album still doesn’t have a name. Or a cover. Or a front insert. They’ve tossed ideas around, sure, but the only thing they have explicitly laid out is the track listing, and Gerard’s even considering changing that again.

In any case, he’s swamped with meetings with Geoff and other Eyeball execs for a while, and barely notices the time passing. It’s a nice change from feeling lost and alone and _bored_ for all that time between the tour and now, having nothing to do and no one to spend time with except Mikey and Ray.

Those two are currently in the living room, playing Guitar Hero and making far too much noise, but no one else seems bothered by it.

“Be back late!” Gerard calls to them as he walks out the front door. He doesn’t get a reply, but every meeting he’s had with Geoff so far as gone so late it didn’t really make a difference anyway. Everyone knows not to keep his dinner warm.

He drives in silence to the Eyeball office. Usually he would be blasting some album or another, but he’s kind of enjoying the quiet night. It’s just verging on darkness now, the Jersey summer light fading into cool black. It’s one of his favorite times of day: late sunset, especially in the middle of the warmest months. Everything is still and peaceful with only the sounds of the rustling trees to accompany the puttering of his car’s engine.

He keeps the window down as he drives, hanging one arm out the window and leaning his head back on the headrest. At a stoplight, he closes his eyes and breathes in deep. Jersey doesn’t smell particularly good, but it smells like home, and there’s nothing that can compare to that. He hasn’t been to a lot of places outside New England; he’s spent most of his life here and he’s never had the means to go anywhere else even if he’d wanted to, but he knows there’s something special about the way cities smell. New York smells like steam and indifference while D.C. smells like sweat and dead flowers and pessimism.

Someday, he’d like to travel enough to see if there’s anywhere else that smells like home.

Geoff greets him at his office door, quickly ushering him into one of the small, creaky seats on the other side of his desk.

“So,” Geoff starts, “What are you thinking?”

Gerard nods and pulls a folder out of his satchel. “I’ve got a few ideas.” He fans out the sketches he’d drawn for Geoff to look over, trying not to feel self-conscious that his art is on display for someone who isn’t afraid to share his negative opinions, no matter how good his intentions.

Geoff looks over each one and hums thoughtfully a few times. He reaches out and touches one on the far left, an old design that Gerard only happened upon by accident. “I like this one,” Geoff says. “I think it could be really good.”

Gerard leans in to look at the sketch, trying to see it through Geoff’s eyes the same way he does whenever he shows someone his art. It’s a new version of the drawing he’d shown his bandmates months ago, the one that Ray had said seemed like it would make a good album cover. The man hanging upside down has been shaded in a little differently, and there’s streaks of red, yellow, and orange around him that sort of make it look like the viewer is seeing him through a warped stained-glass window.

“I like it,” Gerard says. “If you think it’ll work best, we should use it.”

“I do,” Geoff says definitively, and then smiles. “Glad we’ve got an artist in the band.”

Gerard smiles back sheepishly. He feels a little weird making so many decisions for the band, but they all seemed content to let Gerard take the reins, and he feels like, with all the ideas swimming around his head, some of them might actually amount to something.

“Okay,” Geoff says, tucking away the drawing in one of the drawers of his desk. Gerard worries for a moment that he’ll never see it again, and then remembers that it’s going to be on the cover of their album, so he’ll probably see it hundreds more times. “Now, the title,” Geoff continues.

Gerard nods again, but he’s much less prepared for this conversation that he was for the album art. “I’ve been knocking around a few things, but none of them seem… quite right.”

Geoff sighs. “I know this is really important to you, and I don’t want to rush you, but we _have_ to figure it out. The album’s ready to go, we’ve just gotta actually start making the damn things.” Geoff smiles, but it’s a little tight at the corners. “Can’t do that without a title.”

“Yeah…” Gerard looks out the window and thinks back to the few ideas he thought might work. They all seem far too personal, but then again, the entire album is too personal, so it’d just be par for the course, really. “There was one I thought of the other night,” Gerard says, not looking away from the window. “I was thinking about–” He was thinking about _Frank_ ¸ but he can’t exactly tell Geoff that. “Uh, I was thinking about my ex. So it’s… kinda dark.” Gerard looks over at Geoff and smiles nervously again.

Geoff smiles back, a genuine one this time. “Dark seems to be your thing, so, shoot.”

Gerard clears his throat. “Um. I had just been thinking a lot about, like, mutual betrayal and lose-lose situations and–” He realizes that Geoff doesn’t need to hear his entire thought process and abruptly cuts himself off. “I thought we could call it ‘I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love,’” he says, holding his breath a little while he waits for Geoff to respond.

“I like it,” Geoff says finally.

Gerard breathes out slowly, releasing the tension in his shoulders as relief washes over him. If Geoff likes it, he’s good to go.

Then Geoff says, “What does the rest of the band think.”

“Oh. Um,” Gerard says awkwardly. “I didn’t really get a chance to ask them.”

Geoff waves him off. “They’ll like it. I’ll mark it as tentative until I hear back. Just ask them as soon as possible, yeah?”

Gerard nods. “Yeah. Totally, yeah. I will.”

“Cool.” Geoff grins. “That’s it, I guess.”

Gerard’s eyebrows shoot up. This is the shortest meeting they’ve had in weeks. “Really?”

“Yeah. Everything else is set to go. Well, once the title’s confirmed, that is. But… everything’s done.”

“Wow.”

Geoff chuckles. “I know, right? Goes fast. Hey,” he leans over the desk towards Gerard, “you wanna go grab a beer? You seem stressed, man.”

Having Geoff as an almost-manager is nice, because they’re friends, but their relationship has drifted farther and farther towards employer/employee since they signed with Eyeball, which makes things a little awkward. Still, it’s nice to see Geoff trying to keep their friendship alive, and Gerard appreciates it. Not to mention that he _has_ been stressed, and a beer does sound nice right now, but he’d kind of rather have it alone in his basement than with someone else at a crowded bar.

“Thanks for the offer but I think I’m just gonna go home and crash out. Been a rough time getting everything together,” Gerard says, trying to let Geoff down easy.

Thankfully, Geoff doesn’t seem at all miffed. “I totally get you. Take it easy, man.”

“Will do,” Gerard says as he stands up. “I’ll text you about the title soon. Like, tomorrow hopefully.”

“Cool. Have a good night, Gee.” Geoff gives him a mock salute as he leaves.

“You too,” Gerard calls as he leaves Geoff’s office.

The sky is firmly dark now, and as he makes his way to his car, Gerard feels a bit like he’s in a movie. Walking out into the warm summer air and then getting in his car and driving away seems like exactly where the music would play and the car would fade into the distance as the credits start to roll. But he’s not in a movie, and his story is far from over. He’s actually pretty thankful for that.

He pulls up to the house only an hour or so after he left, but it looks entirely dark except for the living room where Mikey and Ray must still be hanging out. The sounds of the video game are still blasting from the TV when he enters the house, and he doesn’t bother saying he’s home as he figures no one can here him. He walks down the hallway towards the living room, intending to hole up in his basement for the night.

As he moves down the hall, he can hear some sort of gross, wet sound he guesses must be from the video game. Probably someone getting eaten by zombies or something. But when he rounds the corner, he sees the game is stuck on the menu screen and from the back it looks like no one is on the couch. As he gets closer, the sounds get louder, and he sees that there _is_ someone on the couch. Two people, actually, making out and grinding against each other.

“Holy shit!” he shouts and slaps a hand over his eyes.

“Oh fuck,” he hears Mikey say, and then there’s the sounds of rustling clothing as he and Ray scramble apart. “You can look now, doofus.”

Hesitantly, Gerard lowers his hand. Mikey is glowering at him like he’s too angry about being cockblocked to be embarrassed, but Ray looks like he wishes he had a shell to crawl back into right about now.

“I– _What_?” Gerard asks. He’s not sure what else to say as his confusion is winning out over pretty much anything else he could be feeling right now.

Mikey sighs exasperatedly. “I still can’t believe you’re this fucking oblivious, but I guess you might as well know anyway.” He lists his head towards Ray, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. “We’re together.”

“You’re… what?” Gerard says again. He knows he sounds stupid, but he really can’t wrap his head around the situation. “Since when?”

Mikey looks less confident then. He looks down at his lap and says, “Since November.”

Gerard’s jaw drops. He quickly does the math in his head. “Eight months? Eight fucking months and you didn’t tell me?”

Mikey grimaces like he actually might be sorry about this. “I was gonna tell you. But it just… never came up. And then Frank joined the band and I thought–” Mikey cuts himself off and sets his jaw.

Gerard looks at Ray, who is currently having a staring contest with the floral upholstery, and then it clicks. “You thought I wouldn’t want you to be together because you’re both in the band.”

“ _Yes_ , you fucking idiot,” Mikey says, his annoyance back. He glares at Gerard accusingly. “What else were we supposed to think?”

In that moment, Gerard feels achingly guilty. “I didn’t– Fuck, Mikey.” He scrubs a hand over his face and tries to formulate the words for what he wants to convey. “You didn’t have to keep this from me. I wouldn’t– I would _never_ tell you you shouldn’t be with someone unless I thought they were really bad for you.” He glances at Ray again and finds, somewhat surprisingly, but in a way that makes perfect sense, that he doesn’t think there’s anyone else who could be quite as good for Mikey. “Fuck, I didn’t even know you were _gay_.”

“I like girls,” Mikey says defensively. Ray throws him a concerned look. “Just… not right now.”

“Okay, sure, we can talk about that later,” Gerard says, waving Mikey off, and then he feels himself shift from concerned brother to annoyed bandmate. “What we should talk about _now_ is why you two think it’s appropriate to make a choice for the band like this without consulting the rest of us. What if you had a fight? What if you broke up? That could jeopardize the band, and that’s not fair to any of us.” _Least of all me,_ Gerard thinks bitterly.

Mikey rolls his eyes. “Oh, I dunno, maybe we’d be _professionals_ about it?” Mikey sits up and gives Gerard an annoyed look. “We’ve had fights already, Gee. Nothing big, but you didn’t even notice, did you?”

Gerard tightens his mouth into a thin line. “No. I guess I didn’t.”

Mikey gives him a ‘told ya so’ look. “So, what’s the problem?”

“You wanna know what the _problem_ is, Mikey?” Gerard huffs a sarcastic laugh and starts pacing back and forth in front of the couch.

“Uhh,” Ray says before Gerard can continue. “Should I leave?”

“No,” Gerard says immediately. “If you’re going to be fucking my brother _and_ in the band, you need to hear this too.”

Ray shuts his mouth and nods sharply. Mikey looks a little annoyed about the “fucking my brother” comment but he doesn’t say anything.

“The problem is that you _know_ what I gave up for this band, Mikey,” Gerard says, still pacing and not looking at Mikey or Ray. “You know how fucking hard this has been for me and you still didn’t say anything. When I was hurting about breaking up with Frank you didn’t think to mention there already was a relationship going on in the band?”

“Wait,” Ray cuts in, sounding entirely confused. “You and Frank…?”

“Oh my fucking God,” Gerard says, exasperated.

Ray looks at Mikey. “ _That’s_ why you didn’t want him to know about us?”

“He would’ve told us to break up!” Mikey protested.

“No, I wouldn’t! Fuck, Mikey,” Gerard says. He stops pacing and comes to stand in front of them, dragging a hand over his face. “If you had told me you knew you could make it work, I would’ve believed you. But you didn’t _tell_ me.” His voice breaks at the end, the hurt he’s feeling about the secrets Mikey kept coming out in his words. He knows he and Mikey haven’t been all that close in years, but he never would’ve thought they’d drifted this far apart.

Mikey looks solemn then. “I know. I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to tell you. And I felt bad because I thought maybe we _should_ break up, if that’s what you and Frank did. But I couldn’t do that.”

“I–” Gerard starts, and then realizes he has no idea what he was about to say. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” There’s a pause where Mikey and Ray look between each other while Gerard awkwardly shifts his wait from foot to foot. Then, Gerard says, “I’m just gonna go to bed. We can talk later,” looking at Mikey and trying to convey that he really just means a conversation, not an interrogation.

Mikey nods. “All right. ‘Night.”

“Goodnight!” Ray calls after Gerard as he heads to the basement.

“Yeah,” Gerard says to himself, the darkness embracing him as he heads down the stairs. “Goodnight.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: homophobic language

The next day, Gerard sleeps in late. It’s not unusual, not in the slightest, but this is late even for him. He wakes up around 4 p.m. to the sounds of someone walking around upstairs and figures he should probably get out of bed seeing as he’s been there for almost thirteen hours. He drags himself into sitting position and is in the process of mustering up the strength to go brush his teeth when he hears a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” he calls.

The door opens a crack and Mikey pokes his head in. “You wanna talk?”

 _Oh_ , Gerard thinks, _right_. He’d kind of forgotten about last night, but it all comes rushing back to him now. If he’s being honest, he really _doesn’t_ want to talk, but he knows they need to and it needs to happen soon.

He nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Mikey enters the room and closes the door behind him. Gerard pulls his knees up to his chest so Mikey can sit on the side of the bed next to him. Mikey stares at the floor for a few minutes before he starts talking.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Mikey says, and he really does sound sorry. “There was… a lot going on. And I kept trying to figure out how to tell you and I just never got it worked out. And then I felt like I _couldn’t_ , at least without feeling guilty that we were still together when you and Frank weren’t. And I just… never said anything.” Mikey ends his speech with a shrug.

It’s probably the most Gerard’s heard Mikey say in one sitting, and he’s a little taken aback. “Um,” he starts. “It’s okay. I mean, I wish you’d told me, and I wish I’d let you know that you _could_ have told me. You can always talk to me about stuff, Mikes.”

Mikey looks at him and smiles a little. “Yeah, I know.”

Gerard pauses for a moment, and then, cautiously, asks, “Is Ray the first guy you’ve been with?”

Mikey nods and looks down at the floor. “Yeah. I didn’t really know I liked guys before Ray but… he’s just kind of perfect.” A smile plays on Mikey’s lips as he says it, and Gerard feels equal parts happy and jealous.

“It’s pretty serious, then?”

Mikey nods again. “Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Gerard replaying the past eight months and filling in the blanks while Mikey looks to be deep in thought.

Finally, Gerard sighs. “We have to talk about it as a band, you know.”

“Yeah,” Mikey says sadly. “I know.”

“We’ll bring it up next practice. It’ll be fine,” Gerard says, but he’s not so sure. If it were anyone else, he knows he could work out any disputes calmly and professionally, but this is his _brother_. There’s really only one way he can think of for this to go, and that’s that they agree that Ray and Mikey can be together. Otherwise, Mikey won’t be happy, and Gerard can’t just let that go.

“If–” Mikey starts, and then shuts his mouth again.

“If what?” Gerard asks curiously.

Mikey doesn’t meet his eye as he says, “If everyone is okay with me and Ray, maybe you and Frank…” He doesn’t finish the thought, but Gerard can fill in the rest.

He’s not sure why it hadn’t occurred to him until now, that if relationships within the band are allowed then there isn’t much a reason for him and Frank to stay split up. He figures it’s because he was mostly preoccupied processing the fact that Mikey kept not only a long-term relationship, but his sexuality secret from him for so long that he hadn’t really thought about what this situation means for him and Frank.

Then again, their relationship was always messy, and just because it might work for Ray and Mikey to be both bandmates and boyfriends, that doesn’t mean it’ll work for Gerard and Frank.

“Maybe,” Gerard says.

“Yeah.” Mikey gives him a little smile as he gets up, and then heads for the door. He pauses in the doorway and says, “Just think about it, okay?”

He’s gone before Gerard can reply, but it doesn’t matter. Gerard knows he’s going to be doing nothing _but_ thinking about the possibilities between him and Frank for a good, long while.

~

“So… that’s about it,” Ray finishes.

They’re sitting in a circle in the practice space, and Mikey and Ray have just finished explaining that they’re together and they don’t think their relationship poses a threat to the band, but they don’t feel right keeping it from them any longer.

There’s a pause for a moment while everyone just absorbs the news and starts to formulate their thoughts. Of course, the only people who didn’t know already are Frank and Matt, but Gerard can tell they’re all reflecting on the band and how their dynamic works.

Frank is the one to break the silence, and he does it with a chuckle. “Now that I think about it, you two were really fuckin’ obvious.”

Mikey smiles, and Ray laughs a little too. Gerard grins, and for a moment he feels like everything is going to be okay.

“Yeah,” Matt says suddenly, and the attention of the group turns to him. His face is set in a frown and he looks deadly serious. “I don’t know how I feel about being in a band with a bunch of fags.”

Gerard’s jaw drops. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Frank getting riled up.

“Are you fucking kidding me, man?” Frank says. “We’ve been gay the entire fucking time, asshole. What’s so different now?”

Matt snorts. “What’s different is you’re fucking each other. That shit’s disgusting.”

Gerard can feel the situation rapidly escalating, and he has no idea what to do about it.

Thankfully, Ray steps in. “Dude, we’re your friends. It’s a little too late for this shit. If you really don’t want to be in the band, we can’t stop you. But do you actually want to walk away from this over something that honestly doesn’t fucking matter?”

Matt closes his mouth, considering. “If you kept it out of my sight this long, I guess I don’t give a shit. Let’s keep it that way, yeah?”

Gerard can tell that Frank wants to argue, and he kind of wants to too, but Mikey decides to make peace instead.

“Sure, whatever,” Mikey says. “Just don’t be an asshole.”

Matt nods. “I can work with that.”

Practice is a little tense after that, which Gerard isn’t exactly surprised about, but he wishes things had gone smoother. The real problem he’s having is that, if Ray and Mikey have made things work, and Matt doesn’t care also long as he doesn’t have to see it, then he really doesn’t have much a reason to not get back together with Frank. If Frank wants to, that is.

They haven’t spoken alone yet, and he’s kind of dreading what will happen if they do. He hasn’t even totally figured out how he feels about this situation, and he doesn’t know if Frank has either, but a big part of him is dying to hear that Frank still wants to be together. Even if Gerard decides it would be a bad idea, he’s not sure he’d be able to say anything other than yes.

He needn’t have worried, though. When they decide everything is good to go for their album release in a few days, they pack up leave like normal. Frank just smiles and waves as he makes his way to his car like he always does. Really, the only thing that’s at all different is that Ray is actually going home to his apartment to meet up with his brother, rather than spending the night at the Way’s. Matt is maybe a little more grumpy than usual, but none of them pay him any mind and they leave without saying anything to each other besides “goodbye.”

Gerard drives him and Mikey home, and something about it feels different. He can’t know for sure, of course, but it feels like there aren’t any secrets between the two of them now, and it’s nice to have that back after having been shut out without even knowing it.

And that makes him think about Frank again, how he didn’t tell Mikey when things got serious between them, or when they broke up and why, and he realizes he was doing his own fair share of shutting his brother out, too.

“I’m sorry,” Gerard says suddenly. He glances over at Mikey to see him staring back confusedly. “For keeping things from you. About Frank.”

Gerard turns back to the road and they sit in silence for a few minutes before Mikey says, “I’m sorry too.”

There’s not a whole lot else they need to say. They’ve never really had to lay things out for each other to make the other understand. Gerard is thankful that hasn’t changed.

~

For the following four days, Gerard obsesses about Frank. It’s not exactly a new activity for him, as even since they’ve been apart he hasn’t really been able to stop thinking about him. But now, he really has something important to think about. He’s spent a lot of time pacing the basement floor considering everything, trying to figure out whether he and Frank could make things work. He knows that they were too attached to each other, too dependent, but he also knows that they can work on that. He knows that Frank hurt him by flirting with other guys, but if Frank can respect his boundaries, he thinks he can respect Frank’s need to have a little freedom. And he knows that he can’t keep going like this, being miserable and alone and unable to move on. He’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to move on, no matter what happens.

Mostly, he thinks he and Frank just have to talk. It’s all sort of contingent on how Frank feels, as Gerard obviously can’t make the decision for both of them. So, he’s made the decision to talk to Frank. Alone. And that seems like an accomplishment in itself. But he still doesn’t know how to go about that, and he doesn’t know how to bring up the subject, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if things go horribly wrong.

He hopes to God things do not go horribly wrong.

The album release is the next night, so they’ll be busy pretty much the entire day until long after they’re done performing, after everything has been signed and all the proper hands have been shaken. At least, that’s what Geoff told them to expect. But if he doesn’t talk to Frank tomorrow, they might not get a chance to be alone together until they leave on tour again in a few weeks, and that seems like very, very bad timing.

There’s no good option, then, he decides. He’ll just have to hope for the best.

Mikey’s been encouraging, at least, saying that they should just talk things out the next chance they get, which Gerard knows, but it’s still nice to hear that he’s on the right track. This whole thing has kind of felt like they’ve gone off the rails, that they’re so far from what’s meant to be that they don’t know how to make things right anymore. Then again, Gerard can’t shake his fear that Frank doesn’t feel the same way, or that even if he does, they could make things even worse by acting on their feelings.

“You won’t know until you try,” Mikey reminds him, and he agrees. He just wishes trying didn’t come with so much risk.

He expects not to sleep that night and prepares himself to be kept up by his thoughts, tossing and turning for hours, but somehow, he falls asleep pretty soon after heading to bed. When he wakes up the following morning, he guesses he was exhausted from thinking through all the possibilities for the past few days. That, and the fact that finally resolving to talk to Frank has made him feel grounded, like he’s finally overcoming his indecisiveness. Still, he wakes early, and that gives him plenty of time to obsess before they have to head to the venue later in the day. He putters around the house for a while, unable to find anything that will keep him distracted for more than a few minutes. Finally, Mikey seems to get fed up.

“Dude, come on. Let’s just go,” Mikey says, looking at Gerard over the top of his phone.

“What?” Gerard asks. He’s been trying to watch a rerun of an X-Files episode on TV, but he hasn’t been paying much attention since the theme song played.

“You gotta get out of here or you’ll go crazy with it,” Mikey clarifies. “Let’s just go down there and, like, help set up or something.”

“Um,” Gerard says. He’s not sure if going to the venue early will help, but he guesses it’s worth a try. “Okay. Sure.”

They pack Gerard’s car with everything they’ll need for the night, which isn’t much as Matt volunteered to bring all of their stuff that’s at the practice space. Gerard drives them to the venue, the Eyeball Records Store not far from Eyeball HQ. When they get there, setup has already begun near the back of the store where the small stage sits in the corner. Gerard feels a little weird about the fact that he’s the front man of a band that’s signed to Eyeball, and yet he’s maybe only been in the record store twice, but Mikey seems familiar with the space and so he decides to follow his brother’s lead.

They pass a few people setting up a ticket stand and merch booth near the front, heading towards the stage in the far-right corner. Mikey stops to greet a few people he knows, somehow, and then Gerard finally spots Geoff directing a few light techs.

“Hey, guys,” Geoff says as he sees them approach. “You’re here early.”

Gerard shrugs. “Didn’t have anything better to do,” he says honestly.

“Oh, well, if that’s the case,” Geoff says, digging something out of his pocket. “Would you mind going to pick up the drum set? Matt called and said his Dad’s truck broke down, and he doesn’t have room in his car.” He finally gets his car keys out of his pocket and holds them out hopefully.

Personally, Gerard has no problem doing things that will both help the band and help him take his mind off all the things he has to worry about. “Yeah, totally,” he says and accepts the keys with a smile.

Geoff smiles back. “Thank you so much, guys. The van’s parked out front.” He quickly turns back to telling people what to do, and Gerard takes that as their cue to get going.

Gerard heads back towards the entrance with Mikey at his side, passing bustling venue workers as they go. They find Geoff’s van parked against the curb right outside the venue and head off to the practice space on the other side of town. Morning rush hour is still going, so by the time they make it all the way over there, load the drums into the van with some difficulty, and drive all the way back, it’s almost noon. The record store is buzzing with even more people, and the stage is starting to come together; a huge My Chemical Romance banner is hanging behind it with another, slightly smaller next to it that reads “I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love.” Gerard designed them both, but he’s shocked at how _big_ they are. It hits him that this is the most important thing they’ve done as a band so far, and it’s only going to get bigger from here.

Mikey alerts a couple venue workers that they have the drums in the van outside, and they get them unloaded and set up in record time. Gerard’s not sure why everything is going so fast, as it’s still early, but then Mikey reminds him, “Early show,” and he remembers that they go on at 5 p.m. to make time for everyone to party afterwards. Well, everyone except the band. They’ll all be too busy performing label duties to have very much fun.

For the next few hours, Gerard and Mikey get swept up in helping set up in any way they can. Matt arrives with the rest of their gear sometime around 3, and Gerard doesn’t even realize that Ray and Frank have showed up until another hour has passed and they have to run soundcheck quickly before they open the doors.

As people start to file in, Gerard realizes he’s missed his shot to talk to Frank before they go on. He has no idea how long it’ll take, and he knows they can’t disappear for an extended period of time now, not when they’re less than an hour from going on. Instead, he ambles around the record store, talking to people he knows and avoiding Frank. It’s not that he _doesn’t_ want to see Frank, he just doesn’t know what he would say now that he’s resolved to confess how he feels. There’s too much riding on what he has to say for their next conversation to be about anything else.

Finally, Geoff calls them over and tells them they’re going on in just a few minutes. The lights go down and then they walk on stage to enthusiastic applause. In the crowd, Gerard sees many familiar faces, including those of his parents and Grandma. He sees a few former members of Pencey too, and even some of Mikey’s friends who he’s met once or twice. Even though he’s nervous to be performing in front of people whose opinions he actually cares about, he feels good. It feels like he belongs up there on stage, bearing his soul for the people he loves.

They play every song on the album in order, Ray starting with Romance and then the entire band kicking into Honey, This Mirror. The crowd gets going right away and continue through the next few songs, thrashing around and screaming along to any lyrics that they know. Before Skylines and Turnstiles, Gerard takes a moment to tell everyone in the room that this song is where it all started. He explains that watching the Towers fall changed his life, and he decided he wanted something positive to come out of such a horrible tragedy. The song is fast and brutal, but when it’s over Gerard can tell that the audience understands the weight of its meaning.

Then, they play Monroeville. Gerard knows that the only people who have heard the song are people who have connections to them or Eyeball, which isn’t too many given the amount of casual fans in the crowd. He knows that this song could make or break their impression, either seeming too campy or just the right amount of emotionally intense.

Gerard closes his eyes as the first notes play. He sings the opening lines softly, even more softly than they practiced. The room is dead quiet except for the music radiating from the speakers and, if he concentrates hard enough, Gerard can almost believe it’s just them playing for an empty room. But then, he opens his eyes.

“But does anyone notice? But does anyone care?” he sings. He suddenly finds himself overwhelmed with sadness, with loneliness. He’s been alone for so long, completely lost and unsure of what to do, how to move forward. He lets it bleed into his singing, his voice becoming ragged and broken, even more so than it is on the album. The words continue pouring out of him as the song changes and then changes again. “And these words changing nothing as your body remains,” he goes on.

Up to this point, he’s had a kind of tunnel vision, his eyes only focusing on random crowd members or the opposite wall, but now he finds his eyes drawn to his right. There, his gaze falls on Frank, who’s looking back at him.

“And now should I be shocked now, by the last thing you said?” he sings while looking directly at Frank. “And in saying you loved me made things harder, at best.” Frank is staring back with such an open expression it makes Gerard want to cry. He forces himself to look back out at the audience as the instrumentation fades away. “But does anyone notice there’s a corpse in this bed?”

For a long moment, the room in entirely silent. Gerard breathes heavily away from the mic and doesn’t look at Frank, doesn’t look at _anyone_. He waits, and then finally someone starts clapping and the rest of the audience quickly joins in. He smiles a little, but they can’t enjoy it for too long as they still have three more songs to get through. But eventually, Demolition Lovers comes to an end, and the show is over.

After they leave the stage, it’s a little bit like a tornado. Or maybe a lot like a tornado. They’re only given a few minutes to haphazardly pack up their stuff before they’re being whisked off to greet fans and label execs alike. For what feels like days, they’re all either stuck behind a table signing CDs, ticket stubs, posters, and anything else people can find, or shaking hands with the right people. Gerard can’t even imagine what this kind of thing is like for bands on big labels.

While stressful and somewhat annoying, signing stuff for fans is overall a pretty rewarding experience. Gerard finds he really enjoys meeting so many new people, and all of them are there because they like his band. When he has the chance, he asks them how they discovered My Chem, or what their favorite song is, or if this is the first show they’ve been to, and he listens to every answer with a genuine smile. They’ve had people express interest in their music before, and they’ve had people show up to concerts to see them, and they’ve signed a few things here and there, but they’ve never experienced anything like this. It’s mind-blowing to see this many people so deeply invested in their music that Gerard can’t quite wrap his head around it.

Finally, things get a little calmer and people start to file out. Gerard guesses that most concert goers figured it was time for them to leave when they saw the venue workers start tearing everything down. After the last fan turns away with a signed CD and a huge grin, Geoff comes up to the table to free them all of their label duties.

“Nice job tonight, guys. Fucking amazing,” Geoff says. “We’ll talk about the tour soon, okay?”

Gerard smiles, but inside he’s groaning. They only just finished with the biggest event of their career so far, and Geoff’s already talking about the next important thing. But, he’s just doing his job, Gerard thinks, and he’ll have time to deal with it before it comes anyway.

They file out of the booth one by one as they head backstage. Before Gerard can get there, though, Geoff stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you still have my van keys?” Geoff asks.

“Oh! Yeah, here.” He starts to dig them out of his pocket where they’ve been the whole night, but Geoff cuts him off.

“No, actually I was thinking, could you maybe take the drums back over to the practice space? I’ve gotta look over things here and–”

“Yeah,” Gerard says. “Don’t worry about it.”

Geoff claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks so much, dude. And seriously, good job tonight. You killed it.”

Gerard smiles at the compliment and Geoff heads off to shout orders at somebody or other. Gerard heads backstage where he finds Matt already heading out with most of their stuff. Ray and Mikey are talking in the corner and Frank is leaning against the wall, looking at his phone.

Ray and Mikey seem to be talking very intensely about specifics for the next tour, and Gerard doesn’t want to interrupt, but he kind of has to so he can ask, “Hey, could one of you help me take the drums back?”

“Oh, shit,” Ray says. “Matt just left but he was in a hurry, so you probably can’t catch him.”

“Yeah,” Mikey says apologetically. “Sorry, we’re… kinda busy.”

Gerard nods. “‘S okay.” He turns around and leaves them to their conversation. Across the room, Frank is still standing there, now pulling a jacket over his shoulders. _It’s now or never_ , Gerard thinks, and heads over. “Hey,” he says as he reaches Frank.

Frank looks up. “Hey.”

“Um,” Gerard says awkwardly. “I kinda need some help getting the drums back over to the practice space.”

Frank looks over at Mikey and Ray over Gerard’s shoulder, but once he sees them talking, he looks back at Gerard and nods. “Sure.”

Silently, they break down the kit and load it piece by piece into Geoff’s van. When it’s completely packed up, Gerard gets in the driver’s seat and starts the ignition, not looking at Frank as he slides into the seat beside him.

He’s had a truly impressive amount of time to think about what he wants to say to Frank, and now he can’t seem to remember any of it. They drive across town without talking, just the sounds of Gerard nervously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to keep them company. This late at night, the town is mostly dead. The glow of the street lights only does so much to make the dark Jersey streets visible, so Gerard keeps a steady eye on the road as he drives.

They pull up outside the practice space, get out of the van, and start unloading the drums, all without saying a word. Juggling the pieces of equipment in his arms, Gerard unlocks the door to the building and leads the way to their room. They can hear a few bands practicing, but for the most part the place is silent. They manage to get everything inside in only two trips, and then set up the drums as best they can without Matt directing them.

They walk back to the van and get in, and Gerard finds that the silence actually isn’t awkward. It’s kind of nice to just be with someone and not have to talk, even though he knows the two of them _have_ to talk at some point. Gerard starts driving them back to the venue, but sees a Dunkin’ Donuts on the way and on a whim, asks, “You want coffee?”

“Sure,” Frank says.

Gerard pulls into the parking lot, deserted at this time, and they head inside. They both order and pay quickly, heading back out of the building as soon as they receive their coffees. Gerard gets back behind the wheel, but he doesn’t reach for the keys, and Frank doesn’t do anything other than sit in the passenger seat and sip his drink.

Gerard’s coffee is nearly gone by the time Frank speaks.

“What are we doing?” he asks.

Gerard startles a little. He’d been staring at the street across the way, not paying much attention to Frank at all, but now he turns to look at him. Frank has set his coffee in the cupholder and is leaning back against the door, looking frustrated.

Gerard places his cup beside Franks and squares his shoulders. “What do you mean?”

Frank looks at him exasperatedly. “You know what I mean.”

“Um.” Gerard shifts awkwardly. “Not really?”

Frank sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “I mean, just, why are we pretending like everything’s normal?”

Gerard purses his lips, thinking. “I don’t know,” he says finally.

Frank looks back at him with a combination of sadness, frustration, and guilt. “I meant it, Gee,” he says. Gerard knits his eyebrows together. “You’re right for me.”

“I meant it too.” He means for it to be strong, resolute, but it comes out close to a whisper.

Frank sits up and leans forward a little. He drops his eyes from Gerard’s, and Gerard thinks he’s going to say something but he keeps his mouth closed and his eyes trained down.

“Maybe,” Gerard starts. Frank’s eyes dart up to meet his again. “Maybe we… could try it. Maybe we could make it would work.”

“It would,” Frank says. He sounds so sure of it that Gerard would be convinced if he didn’t believe it already.

“Yeah,” he says. “It would.”

Frank stares at him for another moment before practically launching himself at Gerard. Gerard laughs and catches Frank in his arms, nearly smacking his head against the window as he falls back with the impact.

“You motherfucker!” Frank yells jokingly. He tightens his arms around Gerard’s neck and Gerard responds by holding Frank tighter. “Fuck, Gee. I can’t believe we went through all that.”

Gerard’s laughter dies as he looks at Frank, their faces so close he can feel Frank’s breath on his cheek. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Frank’s eyes dart down to Gerard’s lips, and without even meaning to, Gerard leans in. Frank’s leaning in too, though, and they meet together in the middle. The light touch of Frank’s lips against his own sends shivers up Gerard’s spine. He catches Frank’s lower lip between his and pulls a little, just feel Frank sigh the way he knows he will. It feels so familiar, yet completely new all at once. Frank moves to straddle Gerard’s lap and pushes into the kiss more insistently.

“Fuck,” Frank say between kisses. “Fuck, Gee. I love you so much, I can’t–” Gerard doesn’t find out what Frank can’t do, because Frank presses his lips to Gerard’s again before he’s finished talking.

Gerard opens his mouth for Frank and feels Frank instantly do the same. Gerard tastes vodka and smoke and it’s just as good as the very first time he had it. It seems so natural, the way they move together and work together. They way Frank’s body fits with Gerard’s is like puzzle pieces aligning, and Gerard knows their bodies haven’t forgotten how they’re meant to be like this, meant to be as close as possible.

Gerard strokes his hands up and down Frank’s sides, just to feel him, just to know they’re really here, after midnight in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot, making out and making the biggest decision they ever have. Frank breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against Gerard’s, his eyes still closed. They breathe together for a few minutes, their chests rising and falling rapidly and then gradually slowing down. Gerard keeps his eyes open so he can take in Frank’s expression. He can’t see much this close – he’s almost going cross-eyed with it – but he can’t stop searching for the freckles and the scars and the piercings he spent so much time memorizing before. He feels his chest expand when he realizes there’s not a part of Frank’s face he doesn’t remember.

Frank smiles, and it quickly turns into a grin. He opens his eyes. “Fuck,” he says, laughing. “Look at the mess we’ve made.”

“Yeah,” Gerard says. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left and then it's done :')


	30. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot thank all of you enough for sticking with me through this fic, especially those of you who commented regularly and kept me going. Thank you thank you thank you thank you!!! 
> 
> If you'd like to keep up with me, you can find me on [tumblr](https://viciousvenin.tumblr.com/) @viciousvenin or email me at viciousvenomao3@gmail.com. I'd love to talk with you!! Going forward, I'm going to take a little break from writing longer fics and focus on some of the shorter ones I've been wanting to write. I've already started working on one! Once the semester ends in May I'm going to start this huge AU idea i've had for MONTHS and hopefully work on it all summer and have it done by the time I go back to school in August. 
> 
> For now, here's the end of this story. I hope you enjoy.

~ Three weeks later ~

Gerard slams the door shut on the trailer and lets out a heavy breath. He rounds the side of the van, thinking about all the driving they have to do that day, and is surprised to find Frank leaning against the side of the van. He’d thought everyone was already settled into their seats, ready to get on the road, but here Frank is, exhaling smoke up towards the sky and looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

The harsh summer sun is beating down on them, making the sweat on Frank’s neck gleam. Gerard’s breath catches in his throat. Even after all these months, Frank never fails to be so strikingly beautiful to him.

Frank glances over at where Gerard has paused near the back of the van. He drops his cigarette and grinds it under his toe. “Hey,” he says.

Gerard smiles a little and moves to join him, leaning against the cool metal of the van. “Hey.” They stare silently out at the desolate parking lot in front of them for a moment. The road can wait.

It’s been a good few weeks, the two of them getting to know each other again and figuring out how to be together and do My Chem at the same time. It hasn’t been nearly has hard as Gerard expected. Things just seemed to _click_ , especially with the two of them trying to actually be a normal couple this time around; one that doesn’t spend every waking moment together and gives the other space when they need it but is still always just a phone call away. It’s nice. It’s _better_ than before, which Gerard can’t really believe. But they’ve got it. It’s theirs now, and no one can take that from them.

“So,” Frank says, shifting awkwardly. “I got a call from my Dad.”

Gerard goes still. He doesn’t say anything, knowing that Frank will continue when he’s ready.

After a few moments of silence, Frank does. “The school told them I’m no longer enrolled. He flipped out, said I’m a disgrace or whatever. Nothing new.” Frank takes a deep breath. “But my Mom was still sending me rent money, and he found out about that too.”

Gerard feels his insides go cold. He looks at Frank tentatively, wondering why he’s telling him this now, what he plans to do about it, if he even _has_ a plan yet.

Frank glances over at him and then back out at the parking lot. “Which means, um, I kind of need a roommate.”

“Oh,” Gerard says, a little confused. “Did you ever ask Shaun?”

Frank gives Gerard an incredulous look, and then grins and shakes his head. “God, you’re fucking ridiculous.” Gerard would argue, but he has no idea what Frank is referring to. “Move in with me, dumbass.”

“Oh,” Gerard says again. He nods. He nods again, twice, quickly. “Yeah. Yes, I will. Totally.”

Frank smiles again and laughs. “Fuckin’ _ridiculous_.” Suddenly, he moves into Gerard’s space and kisses him slowly, softly. When he breaks the kiss, Frank keeps his mouth close to Gerard’s. “I love you,” he says.

Gerard opens his eyes. Frank is looking back at him like he holds the future, and he sees his own in Frank’s eyes. “I love you too.”

There’s a loud rapping on the window by their heads, and they quickly jump apart.

“Get in the fuckin’ van, lovebirds,” Ray yells.

Frank smirks and then turns around to open the van door. He slides into the back seat and Gerard follows, settling in beside Frank. Ray starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot. Matt and Mikey are arguing about something that has to do with comic conventions and famous actors, and Gerard thinks he might want to get in on that debate, but right now he doesn’t want to move.

Gerard glances over to see Frank looking out the window, watching Jersey pass them by.

“Hey, Gee,” Frank says, not taking his eyes off the world outside. “You think it’ll look the same when we get back?”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, looking at Frank. “Like home.”

_fin_


End file.
